


The Strange Love of Wanda Walter (side fic for Life with Marie)

by The_Whistler



Series: Honeybee... One Person's Theory [7]
Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Forgiveness, Friendship, Military Funeral, Redemption, Romance, Roses, Suicide mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-01 06:53:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17239499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Whistler/pseuds/The_Whistler
Summary: Falling in love with the person everyone says you should hate. Supplemental story to Life with Marie.Note: it starts ugly. Very ugly. But the story is meant to be a redemption arc that flows into a love story. I like the idea of people learning to love each other in spite of obstacles instead of one being transformed into a handsome prince with a kiss or getting a pumpkin coach, etc. It's not the most popular otp out there but it ends up being a warm story. You just have to wade through Norman's past a little to get there.





	1. The Broken Man

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Life with Marie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/895003) by [The_Whistler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Whistler/pseuds/The_Whistler). 



> Edit: It has occurred to me that by this time she is not called Wanda Walter. But it sounds better than Wanda Hottie so I'll leave it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Norman Becile has seen terrible things. Before he can move forward and heal, he must close the door on his past the best he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: In this chapter, Norman will be verbally abused by his manipulative, gas-lighting sociopath of a half-brother. This chapter only. Once the rest of the fic is up, you'll see a much gentler story. There will be hurt and comfort, but nothing on this scale will happen again. Just some negative inner monologues and memories as the family works through their past together. So if this is too harsh, wait and read from chapter 2 once it's ready.
> 
> The timeline is a little murky when it comes to Norman's residency at Walter Manor. So I've gone with my own version and had Ignatius already tried and convicted. For what it's worth, I'm thinking the scary son-of-a-scientist gets the death penalty.

San Quentin State Prison, 1952:

 

"You have ten minutes."

"Th... thank y-you..." Norman faltered.

The guard flinched and grunted an acknowledgement as he opened the door. Norman looked down at his hands, as usual avoiding eye contact.

Eye contact. Ugh. He didn't want to think about eyes.

Ignatius was waiting behind a glass partition. Norman nervously sat opposite and forced himself to look up and face the unblinking, malevolent stare of his brother. Well, half-brother.

"Ig... nathius..."

"Burn in Hell, Norman," he said coldly. "Just what in the name of your worm-eaten whore of a mother possessed you to come here after you sold me like garbage?"

Did they sell garbage? Norman pushed the thought aside. He didn't even flinch at the slight to his mother. It was nothing new. Instead, he struggled to form the words he'd come to speak.

"I jutht... jussst cave... camme to t-tell yyou I'mm th... ssorry."

"S-s-sorry?" Ignatius mocked. "You're sorry, you bastard? They may give me the chair, you son of a bitch!"

"Th-they d-d-donn't haff th-the ch-chair in..."

"Shut the hell up! What difference does it make? They're going to kill me, Norman! Because of you!"

"Yyou... sshould n-not haff... have k-killed themm... It wathn't... wasssn't rright..."

"Oh, such a moral pillar! They didn't even feel it! But me? They'll make sure I suffer! I'm sure you'll enjoy that, watching me gasping out my last, forgetting that I tried to pull you back when you went diving out to die along with them!" Ignatius growled, holding up his deformed arm. "And forced to live with this for my wasted effort!"

As though a single arm compared to what Norman endured every day. And of course he didn't understand that Norman meant all of the murders committed that night, not just the two men who had died trying to recover the core.

But that was Ignatius all over. He thought of everything in terms of how he was affected himself. As such, he had only ever considered the lab techs as tools, mouths to be silenced once they'd served their purpose. They had done, so he had silenced them. Only one of the girls had survived by playing dead, and had made her way to a house down the hill, where she had called the police. Norman had never seen Ignatius as furious as when he found out he'd been undone by what he described as a "worthless office slut."

Well... never, until now.

"Th-thank yoou fffor th-that, vu.. but..."

"Save it, freak. Don't bother. You've murdered me, Norman. Your own brother. Murdered me in cold blood and the family will never forget it. But what did any of us expect? You were always weak and useless. Haven't I always told you?"

He had. He'd told him ever since he was a child. And Norman, at long last, had come to accept that he was angry... but how could he tell him that, now? Ignatius was right; they were considering sending him to the gas chamber.

After all these years... all the torment, the cruelty, the abuse... Norman wanted to tell Ignatius off once and for all... but he hadn't come to do that. It seemed too cruel considering the circumstances, so as usual he'd come to apologize for doing the right thing. But what would he have said, anyway, with his awkward sharpened teeth and forked tongue? He'd had to relearn how to speak to even be able to testify...

"Nothing more to say? Then get the Hell out. And I hope you're happy. I hope you're very satisfied with what you've done to your own brother. You're the heir to the family fortune now, if they let you have it. Congratulations. That was all you really wanted, right?"

"No, I d-didn't..."

Norman stopped. He was baiting him. Why did he fall for it? Every single time...

"G-Good-bye..." Norman said faintly as he rose to go.

"Norman!" Ignatius said suddenly. "Norman, wait..."

He should go. He should just leave. This had been a mistake. He'd wanted to clear the air between them but it would never happen. Reconciliations took a mutual effort.

Norman slowly turned, mentally bracing himself.

"When you inevitably give up and end your miserable, freakish life," Ignatius hissed, "I'll be waiting in Hell to see you burn."

And the anger bubbled up again. This wasn't right. This wasn't how families treated each other, even after all that had happened! This was wrong! And he had endured it his whole life...

"May G-God forgiff... forgive you, Ignatiusss," Norman managed, "becausse I n-never will."

Ignatius' eyes bulged with rage. Norman had never back-talked him and he felt a mingled thrill and panic as he turned hastily to retreat from his brother's fury, trembling as though he was fleeing a fire-breathing dragon.

"Damn you!" Ignatius screamed as the guard opened the door for Norman. "I'll haunt you, you feckless bastard! I'll burn you from the inside if I have to! You'll have no peace in this life or the next! Norman! Do you hear me?"

The door closed and he stopped a moment to catch his breath.

"Uh... you okay?" the guard asked hesitantly.

Norman opened his mouth, then thought better of it and nodded. The guard shrugged and walked him back to his own cell in silence. He would only be in it for one more day, and then he would have to go home... where they would treat him at least as badly as ever.

Unless a long-shot played out and saved him from it. He had been invited to live with the last person he ever would have asked for help, the last man he ever would have expected to take him in. It wouldn't be much of an improvement, but he didn't have a lot of choices. Better to live with people who loved each other and hated him than with cruel family who hated him even more than each other, or themselves.


	2. An Uneasy Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would have been heart-warming if they'd all welcomed him with open arms. But that's not a realistic expectation, especially for the woman who lost both her husband and her father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, we're nearing the end of January and the writing and editing are almost done. Time to start posting the finished chapters. I'm going to try posting ever other day but I might lose track. If I miss a day, drop me a note and I'll get the chapter up.

Wanda Hottie was seething.

He'd asked her second. She understood why. He had to make sure Rabbit, of all people, was okay with it first. The question was, how had it gotten past Rabbit?

When her turn had come, after she recovered from the shock, she'd told him no. No! How could he even consider it?

But Uncle Peter had told her exactly how he could consider it. And she hated every second of it, every word he spoke about that monster. Norman Becile even looked like a monster, now!

And it served him right!

"I struggled with this, too, Wanda. But after speaking with him, before and after the trial, I learned that Norman was just as much a victim as we were."

Wanda snorted.

"He was. The only thing they had on him was the aggravated theft and the negligence that led to their deaths, sweetheart," Uncle Peter said slowly. "They concluded the results could not have been predicted and I agree. That was why I encouraged him to testify in return for clemency. And then his sentence was commuted more because of his condition. They're releasing him in a couple of days."

"But... all those people..."

She didn't want it to just be about her father and Guy. That was selfish, to condemn a man for the deaths that meant the most to her, out of the nineteen that had died that night. But she ached for them both so much! She had always been close to her father, and she had been very fond of Guy. He wasn't Casanova but he was a sweet man who, like her father, was just trying to help his family.

But now they were nothing more than a pile of loose change! And her uncle wanted her to give their killer a home? 

And that wasn't even the end of their suffering. Her older brother, Mark, and his little son, Peter V, had died in a car crash the year after the incident. Soon after that, their mother had taken too many sleeping pills by mistake and died, too. Some had called it suicide. Wanda had decided that would be the one thing that would make it unbearable. So it wasn't suicide. It was just a terrible accident.

And while she didn't blame Norman for Mark's death, she did blame him for her mother's. She never even would have needed sleeping pills if weren't for the state she'd been in since her husband's death!

Wanda forced herself from these agonizing thoughts. The conversation hurt enough.

"What about _them,_ Uncle Peter? What about all those murders?" she demanded.

"You know very well that the building was full of cameras and they all showed Ignatius doing the killings."

"You mean the _shootings_ ," she spat bitterly.

"Yes. I do. And you also know that the one surviving witness confirmed it."

Wanda was silent. What of it? So what if Norman had, according to his lawyer, been in the lab the whole time? So what if he'd testified against Ignatius? So what if he had said, at his sentencing, that he was bitterly sorry for all that had come of his actions? So damned what if he had said it with tears in his eyes?

And that cock-and-bull story about being under the sway of Ignatius, as though Norman hadn't been in control of his own actions! Claiming he'd given way to the pressure. If Norman had been a real man, he'd have spat in Ignatius' eye!

Uncle Peter patted her arm. His touch was too weak, she noted sadly. He'd been so vigorous before. Another cruel act to lay at the feet of Norman Becile.

"Sweetheart..." he murmured. "I was there. Don't forget that I was. I fell back when they ran in or I would have..."

His voice shook. Wanda looked up abruptly, heart in her throat. She knew what he was thinking. He blamed himself for letting them die. But she wouldn't have it. If he'd followed them, he'd have died, too!

"Uncle Peter, don't..." she begged.

"I would be with them now, and Norman would have another death on his conscience," he whispered.

She stared in disbelief. She'd thought the same, but the way he said it...

"You... _pity_ him!" she accused. "You feel sorry for a murdering..."

"No. I understand him. He agreed to steal the core, yes. He conspired to do it. That brute of a half-brother of his was the instigator but yes, Norman went along. And now he's a beast welcome nowhere but his home."

"Then he can _go home!"_ she cried.

"He doesn't want to!" Peter growled, clearly at the end of his tether.

He was shaking. She took his hand. "I'm sorry!" she gasped. "I'm so sorry, Uncle Peter! Are you alright?"

"I... I'm fine. But I need you to understand, sweetheart... Norman doesn't want anything to do with them. They were all complicit. They told him to blame us entirely for the accident. Ignatius couldn't wriggle out of his charges but they told Norman to lie and he didn't. And Two probably did cause it..."

"No, no, he..."

"Yes. _Yes,_ sweetheart. I'm sorry, but it's true. Not intentionally, not wrongfully. He was taking the core and..." He swallowed. There were tears in his eyes and a bewildering smile on his face as he murmured, "I suppose the idiot just had bad timing. Should have listened to his smarter brother."

"Oh, Uncle Peter..." she scolded tearfully, squeezing his hand.

"The point is," he said, dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief, "Norman has character. It took this to get him to stop caving to his family. He thinks it's too late for him... that he waited too long and his life is over. And he's only thirty-four, Wanda.

"But he can't go anywhere the way he is. No one is willing to take him in. He can't even speak properly. But his family treated him like garbage before and it's only likely to get worse if he goes back. Despite all that, he struggled with accepting the invitation, for obvious reasons.

"But I gave this a lot of thought before even inviting him. We have more space than we'll ever need. He could have a whole wing to himself and you'd still never have to see him. I know you have your hands full helping me, so Marie, Spine and Jon would surely be willing to help him with whatever he can't do himself and Betty can see to his medications..."

"Medications?"

"He needs a lot of them, sweetie. You don't endure what he has without developing health issues. Look at me. I'm a mess and I don't even have external deformities. Norman was closer, and he was looking around the partition because he realized they were too close to the center and was trying to warn them."

He was trying to warn them. Uncle Peter had said as much during Norman's hearing. But considering the damage he'd received, how could Uncle Peter be sure? And the only proof they had was a shaky, silent, black and white video recording showing Norman leaning out and shouting, Ignatius reaching one arm after him. A flash of light...

And the camera switched off.

It wasn't fair. She couldn't very well say it at her age but it wasn't. None of it was fair. She wanted to be angry and keep holding her grudge. And she was... so very, very angry!

But Uncle Peter was also right. And if he had managed to forgive this man for the death of his only brother...

"I won't force you," Peter said gently.

Wanda looked up at him, chin trembling.

 

Three days later, she sat, angry all over again, watching Marie feed Davey and grumbling for the nth time about the situation.

Well, at least, now she knew how Rabbit had caved. Uncle Peter had appealed to their pity and won them all over, all without pointing out the obvious: that this was now _his_ house, and he didn't technically need their permission.

Rabbit had been the hard sell, but he felt so badly for Peter III that he consented on much the same terms as Wanda... no contact. Honey had helped in this regard, consenting no doubt because she was a stickler for propriety, even though she hated Norman, if anything, _more_ than Rabbit did. Peter IV had scowled until his uncle had finished speaking, muttered an assent filled with pure bile, and walked out.

Marie had been the predictable pushover, melting at Peter's description and giving in after an awkward glance at her husband, and The Spine went along because of Marie and because, as everyone knew but never said, he had the most tender heart of anyone in the family, underneath. 

In the end, Norman Becile was cleared to live indefinitely at Walter Manor. And he arrived today.

"A flat no?" Marie prompted Wanda, wrestling with Davy, who had grabbed his spoonful of strained peaches and was coming close to gagging himself with it.

Wanda sagged. "I... said I really didn't want him to but that it was _his_ house. Isn't that close enough?"

"Not to a man. Give them an inch..." She grabbed at Davy, who had been providing a visual demonstration by beating the peach-covered spoon against his tray. "But if you meant to say no, you could tell him..."

"It's too late. I just have to deal with it. And I know he's trying to be kind and forgiving. But I can't believe Rabbit said yes!"

"I was surprised that Peter did. The fourth, I mean. He's a sweetheart but he can be awfully moody."

Wanda sighed sharply. "That's Peter. He'll hang onto things when he's really angry but he hates himself if he doesn't do the right thing."

"I suppose... but I also think he's curious about him, honestly. He's like that."

"Traitor," Wanda muttered. "I guess I should have phrased it differently. He does the right thing but he'll turn nasty if he gets his nose out of joint and forgets everything if he gets curious!"

Marie laughed awkwardly as they heard the sound of the front door opening. Wanda rose suddenly.

"I'm going to my room," she growled. "I may not be able to stop him from moving in, but that doesn't mean I have to speak to him. If he stays in the east wing, we'll get along fine, because I'll stay strictly away from it and him!"

She stomped out, charging pointedly past the entry hall without so much as a glance at those in it.

 

Norman Becile stood in the doorway and watched her rush past.

Well. He could hardly blame her.

He'd heard, while he was being questioned by the police, that Hottie had been married... and the guilt he'd already felt had multiplied. Then came the trial and he saw her at last. What an awkward moment that had been! He had felt a terrible urge to stare. Professor Guy Hottie's young, beautiful widow. She was too lovely to be wearing all black... and from what he understood, she'd had to keep wearing it for quite a little while. It was a shame.

She was wearing purple now. It suited her.

And she was gone. He heard a door slam in the distance.

_Did you really think this would lead to a chance to apologize to her, Norman? How very naïve. She'll never speak to you. How could you have thought otherwise? You never should have accepted Peter's invitation._

Aching, he looked down at his lobster claw fingers and sighed as Peter IV and The Spine awkwardly led him to his rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unrelated note: The Vice Quadrant lore came along well after I wrote "What Is Life, and What Is Real?" As such, all we knew about Peter IV was his birth date and that he entered the military and was lost on a solo space flight in a ship called the Asteroid I. We speculated that "Fire, Fire" might have some connection to him but David shot us down every time we suggested it, the little turd. They drop lore like little drops of California rain but are close as clams when they want to be.
> 
> So I was pleased to find that I had characterized Peter IV tolerably well... nice kid, but under emotional strain he can be petulant and even vindictive. Bottles things up sometimes, won't admit he's hurting. That doesn't end well.
> 
> So in here, I couldn't help dropping in the littlest hints of his character. Just for grisly fun.


	3. Breaking the Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to step up and meet the man who has lived in your house for two years. Maybe lovers have gotten off to worse starts, but it's hard to imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one will have the slowest of slow burns, because anything faster in a case like this is just preposterous.

Wanda was as good as her word. She kept clear of Norman for the next year or so, and he made no attempt to approach her... or anyone else. There were times that there seemed to be a flurry of activity in his wing of the manor and Wanda almost asked what was wrong, but she didn't think she wanted the answer, and no one offered.

Unsurprisingly, Norman kept mostly to that wing, only occasionally leaving it at Peter III's request to join them for a deeply uncomfortable meal. In between such outings, Marie kindly brought him trays at mealtimes until she got pregnant. Once she had begun to show, The Spine began to accompany her and carry the trays.

But once Marie gave birth, Wanda had an ugly awakening.

"We all think it's about time you stopped this, Wanda," Marie told her sleepily as the baby slept beside her. "There's been too much sadness in this house. We want to try and be a family, even those who aren't technically blood relatives."

The hint was pointed. Marie was among that group, and she was fully part of the family now. Norman wasn't. But after all, that was incredibly different, wasn't it?

"Spine took him his tray this morning," Marie murmured, "and Betty took it last night. But Spine needs to be with Lily and Betty is Peter's nurse. So here's your chance to start learning to accept Norman being here. You can take him his trays."

"I already cook him the damned meals," Wanda grumped. "Yes, even with the weird diet he's on! It isn't so very far that The Spine can't do it."

"He was going to, and he certainly still can sometimes, but if he's busy at the time feeding Lily, Norman would have to wait. And since he doesn't usually come out for snacks, that wouldn't be very pleasant for him."

"Then let Betty! She's his nurse, too!"

"Only for medicines. She's already bringing Peter food and she's not a lunch lady. Look, you don't have to do it every time. But it wouldn't be fair to put it on anyone else full time. I'm the kind of danged fool who takes everything on my own shoulders and I really shouldn't have been. Oh, by the way, since he doesn't feel welcome anywhere else in the house, someone has to empty the ash cans, too..."

Wanda ignored the obvious guilt trip and cried, "You take out his trash?"

"Yes! He knows you don't want him here and he's afraid to speak to anyone else anyway, especially Rabbit!" Marie drawled, not letting go of the point. "And he's been practicing learning to write right-handed so he goes through a lot of paper."

"Right-handed? But..."

"He was left-handed. So he's had a hard time."

"Oh..."

More reason to pity him. But she didn't _want_ to pity him! She'd put a lot of effort into avoiding it, because pity was the first step to forgiving, and she had no intention of doing that.

"Look, I do understand your reasons. But it isn't healthy, sweetheart. He looks like a monster but he isn't one. He really regrets what happened and his part in it. He has nightmares..."

 _Good,_ Wanda thought. She wasn't proud but there it was.

"Even Rabbit is willing to speak to him sometimes." Marie yawned. "It... it has to be so lonely, being by himself most of every day. Please..." ...yawn... "just try a little?"

She had no response for that. She was, not for the first time, starting to feel a little of that pity Marie was asking of her.

"I guess... I guess maybe I could. Sometimes..." Wanda said with deep reluctance.

"Hm?" Marie mumbled, her eyelids drooping.

Wanda sighed. "Get some rest. I'll take care of things."

"Mm... good..." Marie murmured.

Wanda rose and walked quietly out. Trust Marie, after thirteen hours of labor, to still think of her household responsibilities and call Wanda in to give her a talking to... while she had a terrible hangover, no less. The last time a baby had been born in this house, Wanda had been eight years old, and they had kept her well away, but she could still hear the screams. This time around, she had decided a stiff drink was better than sitting and reliving that old memory, and it had been easy to get good and plastered considering she almost never drank.

She was a little tempted, after their conversation, to have some of hair of the dog, but there were children in the house and she had to face Norman later. This was no time to give way and become a lush.

 

The Spine did consent to join her the first time she headed over with the tray. Lily was sleeping, her belly and her core full, and he took pity on Wanda's situation.

"I don't blame you at all. I want you to know that," he said softly as they started out.

"Everyone else does," she pouted.

"Do you really think that? They don't. Norman certainly isn't the monster we all once thought, but no one really thought it was fair to expect you to accept him."

"That's not what Marie said!"

"Oh..."

"Yeah. I guess we have a lot of old mother hens clucking when people aren't there to defend themselves, but she decided to be honest with me..."

"Look, we just said it would be nice if you'd give him a chance, alright? And she was clucking... um... talking, too. She only told you because she needed your help."

"You're really not making this any better," Wanda growled as they turned into the east wing.

The Spine steamed quietly. "I know," he muttered.

He led her to the room Norman used for meals and study. She rapped at the door. Her heart thumped with a painful startle when a voice said, "Come in."

She'd seen and heard him in court. He'd barely been able to speak. He'd sounded like a monster and sometimes had to repeat himself.

But now? He sounded... nice. He must have been practicing. Goodness knew he had little else to do...

She glanced up at The Spine, who jerked his head toward the room and smiled encouragingly.

"Is someone there?" the voice came again.

Wanda looked up again. The Spine rubbed her back kindly and called, "Norman, it's me."

"Oh, but I thought..."

The voice was coming nearer. The door opened and Norman started so violently that Wanda recoiled in response. The Spine smoothly swept up the tray before it could fall.

Norman stood with one hand on his chest, his twisted face all shock.

"This is Wanda," The Spine said warmly.

"I... I know. Miss... Mrs..."

He trailed off, his head angled downward.

"Thank you so much for doing this," he murmured. "For everything..."

"Um... you're... welcome?" Wanda faltered. "I mean... here's dinner, Mr. Becile..."

"Of course. Of course, dinner. Thank you. Oh, and please... you may call me Norman."

"Alright," she whispered, feeling like a nervous child.

The Spine carried the tray into the room and laid it on a table, then retrieved the lunch tray.

"Wanda, the trash appears to be full..." he prompted.

"Hm? Oh, right..."

She slipped past Norman, willing herself to appear calm, and reached for a small wastebasket that had been next to the table.

"Oh!" cried Norman. "I... I can take it out..."

"Are you sure?" The Spine said, glancing at Wanda.

"Of course. I should have been all along..."

There was an awkward silence. Wanda's cheeks were burning. He could have been doing for himself if she hadn't held a grudge for so long.

"Alright," she murmured. "The furnace is down the hall and to the left, down the stairs there, in the basement."

"Yes, good. Thank you," Norman said yet again, hurrying out with the basket.

Wanda looked at The Spine, who sighed.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked weakly.

"It was awful," she whispered, looking down.

"Well..."

"I'll do it. Alright? For now. But... he really should be allowed to come into the rest of the house without being afraid. If he wants to."

"I think he does. He already spends a lot of time in the garden."

"What? Marie said he was alone all the time..."

"He is alone a lot, even out there. Hadn't you noticed how the roses look lately? He's taken up gardening."

"I haven't seen him, but I guess if he hides when he sees me coming... and I suppose he's using the door down the hall to get out there." She blinked at the dinner tray numbly. "Well, that's nice. Flowers don't mind how you look."

She burst into tears.

"Wanda?"

"Let's just go," she sobbed . "Before he comes back. He might think..."

"I know. Let's go, sweetheart."

The Spine started for the door. Wanda, following, noticed a wadded ball of paper Norman had overlooked. She scooped it up to throw away for him.

But when she was back safe in her room, she grew curious. She gently opened the crumpled folds and saw a shaky, choppy handwriting. She couldn't read much, but what she saw was enough to start her tears over again. Now she knew why he had been afraid to let her take out the trash.

It was an apology letter. To Wanda.

Shaking, she slipped it into the trash, tucking it discreetly inside an old cosmetics carton.

She wasn't thrilled that he was there. But at least she no longer hated him.

 

Norman returned to his room and found it empty. He sighed and placed the little trash can beside the desk. Sinking into his chair, he stared at the floor, then at his hands.

It had been an utterly dismal first meeting. But considering he'd half expected her to hurl statuary at his misshapen head, it certainly could have been worse, even though he'd fled like a coward.

_Congratulations, idiot. You've graduated from being a pariah to being reluctantly tolerated. Well done._

He sighed deeply. Ignatius had been as good as his word. Not that he had managed to return from the grave to haunt him, considering his execution was still on appeal, but he just as surely had embedded himself in Norman's thinking. Wherever he went and whatever he did, Ignatius lurked in the recesses of his mind to pass judgment.

But Norman, with long-cultivated patience and an innate optimism slowly working its way back into active use after years remaining hidden, felt it was at least a tiny step forward. Things hadn't gotten worse. That would have to do for now.

He picked up his pen and got back to work.


	4. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saying goodbye to Peter III brings those left behind closer together... even those who never wanted to be close at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the gloom so far, folks. Not much of an upward slope in the last chapter. But here, things take a turn and open the way for the future. This is a hurt/comfort chapter, instead of just hurt. From here on out, there will be some conflict, but it will be more happy than sad.

After a couple of weeks of taking Norman his trays, Wanda (with Rabbit's reluctant consent) suggested moving him to a bedroom with an attached study that was closer to the center of the house. He consented in an insufferably beholden tone and she almost regretted it. But she realized that it was ridiculous to keep him so isolated and that no one else would suggest the solution. She now had him more around the house and less around her conscience.

It wasn't that she couldn't walk all the way to his room with meals. It was more that he always seemed to desperately glad to see her or anyone, and so quiet when she left. Since her first visit, he had continued taking own his trash to the furnace, but he still seldom joined the family for meals or activities. She had mixed feelings about that, but she was determined to do the right thing. He had paid enough.

Even once he had moved, he kept to himself. She tried taking Davy and later infant Lily to visit him, in case his hesitation was due to not wishing to frighten the children. They would each come to adore him, but for now he smiled indulgently during their visits... and still wouldn't come out for so much as a cup of coffee, most days.

Then Peter III died. Norman came out of his room at last, for the viewing and the funeral.

Wanda watched him anxiously at the viewing as he approached the open casket. Now that she was taking the responsibility she saw was hers, she worried about him. Peter III was effectively the final casualty of the Blue Matter incident. How would Norman handle his death? It wasn't easy for anyone, of course, seeing the once tall, muscular and vigorous Peter Walter III, laying pale, wasted and still in white satin. 

But Norman smiled gently, tears squeezing from his large, mismatched eyes, whispered something, and walked away. At the funeral, he laid a bundle of the stunning pink roses he had grown himself on the flag-covered coffin and Wanda heard him whisper a soft thank you before moving on.

She stood by while the military salute was fired. Visitors from outside the manor looked sidelong at Norman, who didn't seem to notice. Wanda eyed them in silence and saw one elderly general scowl and whisper something to his wife, who joined him in staring at Norman.

Wanda, seething, caught the eye of the man and stepped a few inches closer to Norman, glaring back. Norman shifted slightly and she turned to see a small smile on his face. He must not have noticed the stares. But Wanda spent the rest of the time glancing around her, daring anyone else to hint at a dirty look while she was watching.

Perhaps he _was_ a monster, on the outside. To be sure, she was only just learning to live with his presence herself. But he was _their_ monster, welcomed into their home by the very man they had come to mourn. Who were these people to judge?

The sermon ended. Wanda cried softly, clutching the folded flag, as the coffin was lowered. Peter IV saluted along with other military personnel, including the robots. Each tossed a handful of soil into the hole. The robots began to fill in the rest, as they had done for past Walters and most likely future Walters. Each cried unashamed oily tears as he worked and Wanda turned away. 

She and Marie walked inside with the children. After they'd fed them and put them to bed, Peter III's will was read, followed by a small dinner before the visiting mourners left at last.

Wanda took Norman his dinner afterward. He had excused himself directly after the funeral, saying he was tired, but she knew it was the company more than anything that was so fatiguing. She also suspected he saw no reason to hear the will, since he wasn't family. He'd been mistaken... Peter had not forgotten Norman, even in death.

"Are you alright?" she asked gently as she set down the tray.

"Hm? Quite alright, Mrs. Hottie. Just weary."

"And sad..."

"Ah. Yes, of course. Your Uncle has been far kinder than I deserved."

"Now, Norman..." she scolded, "you mustn't speak that way about yourself! If you hadn't deserved it, Uncle Peter wouldn't have done it."

"Well, then. He's been far kinder than anyone would expect him to be, all things considered."

"Kinder than you know, actually. He... he stated in his will that you were to have a home here until the day you die, if you want it."

Norman looked at her in surprise. His lip quivered ever so slightly and he lowered his head, smiling. "Of course he did."

"I'm... glad. I'm glad he did it. It was the right thing to do and we've all agreed that you should stay."

He nodded.

"Norman..." she murmured uncomfortably, "I hate to bring it up, but... I'm sorry they were giving you dirty looks."

"You noticed."

"I noticed. And I was hoping you hadn't."

"I've come to expect them. I suppose you really can't blame them for it."

 _I could_. "I suppose. But I'd prefer that they noticed the roses you put on the coffin. They were lovely."

"Oh! Thank you... They're a hybrid tea I cross-bred myself."

"That's really impressive."

"Oh, it's not so..." He began. He glanced at her briefly and smiled down at his meal. "Thank you."

The usual awkward silence fell.

"Have a good night," she murmured, turning to go.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Hottie."

"Wanda," she said abruptly.

She turned. He stared at her.

"Call me Wanda. Please. It's silly to be so formal. Uncle Peter's gone and he's as good as adopted you, so we all need to learn to live together. This is your home now, alright? That was what he wanted, and I hope I've made you feel more welcome in it."

"You have. Thank you."

"I'm glad. So just call me Wanda from now on. Alright?"

He nodded mutely and looked abruptly down at his meal.

"Goodnight, then....Wanda."

A trickle of warmth seemed to pour down her back.

"Goodnight, Norman."

She hurried out. She thought she heard a soft sigh as she closed the door.

 

Norman watched her go, fighting a surge of panic as the door closed.

Peter III was dead. He'd managed to hang on for a little more than five years but his death was from the blast, just the same as his brother's had been. Just when Norman had almost come to forgive himself for the other deaths, Peter was gone.

It had been reassuring for a moment to know that they intended to let him stay. He hadn't expected to be tossed out on his ear but he'd always suspected they might be waiting for him to make other arrangements. But this was all he had. He couldn't even go near the street like this. Sometimes it was suffocating...

He focused on calming his breathing. It was alright. He was welcome there, and he could always go into the vast property when he felt cooped up. He was safe. Peter III had left a directive about him, and the eldest living family member had made him a promise to honor it. No need to be afraid, no need to torture himself. No one was angry about it anymore.

Well, perhaps Rabbit.

_...Rabbit..._

The panic returned, and with it, the voice...

_Why are you so weak? This isn't your trap, it's your hiding place, not that you deserve it. Hear that? You don't deserve to live in this lovely house with these kind people. That girl doesn't care about you. She hasn't embraced you as a member of the household. She pities you, Norman. She sees you for what you are, a coward hiding with people who tolerate you..._

"Stop..." he choked.

_If she only knew what was inside, though, she'd hate you and it would be justified. You're a murderer. You tell yourself it was an accident but you know damned well you could have stopped it. You knew it was dangerous. You knew something wasn't going according to plan. But you caved. You bowed as usual and watched Ignatius murder all those people and all you could at the end of it was try and call out one lousy warning not to touch the core because you felt guilty. Yeah, maybe you got hurt doing it but was that really heroic, or just stupid and careless, and selfish because you didn't want any more deaths on your conscience? Even now you pity yourself because they died. Even your motives are corrupt._

"Stop!" he sobbed, clutching his head.

But the voice continued, telling him every mistake he'd made, every weakness he possessed. Sometimes he almost felt possessed...

He stared down at his meal helplessly, panting with terror. He couldn't eat. Couldn't do anything. Couldn't even stand up to Ignatius. He always told him he was a fool, an idiot, a coward. Whatever it took to coerce him into proving him wrong. And he almost always fell for it. On the rare occasion that he didn't, he wouldn't punish him with an even longer rant about why he was worthless, and Norman had come to believe it.

And now they were all dead, even the kind man who forgave him first of anyone. The man whose kindness had allowed him the chance to think maybe he wasn't worthless, because no one is, surely. The man who had indicated that he at least didn't think that Norman was. The man whose family had loved Peter as Norman's had never loved each other. He'd just begun to think the Walters might find a way to love him, too... to melt the cage of ice around him.

But why would they? Peter could only demand so much on a sheet of paper. He couldn't tell them how to feel. They let him live here, they were so kind... but how could anyone love Norman now, especially them?

Norman, trembling from head to foot, just managed to get undressed and into bed.

 

Peter IV met Wanda as she returned to the kitchen.

"Wanda... I want you to know that I'm looking for Peter V."

"What?" she gasped.

"You heard the will. Uncle Peter left the house to him. We have to at least try."

It had said that, but she had dismissed it, all things considered. "There was no sign of him after Mark died. He must be dead, too!"

"But none of the reports found a trace of him in that car."

"It was... it was so burned, Peter. They barely managed to identify Mark..."

"So there's no proof that his little boy was in the car! Someone must have been watching him and they just kept him or something."

"They might have, but what a thought! Oh, Peter... it's just horrible. To think we might have just left him alone in the world all these years!"

Peter hugged her tightly. "I know, sis. There were some of Uncle Pete's best buddies at the reading so I asked them to check into it."

"Thank you. This is big of you. It would be your house..."

"Which is silly because you're older and I'm hardly in it. It's technically also silly that he would get it before me, but if that's how it's set up, we just have to deal with it. But either way, we have to try, right? If there's even a chance the little guy survived. We couldn't do it at the time with everything going on, so we'll do it now."

Wanda nodded. "I... This has all been too much for me. I'm heading to bed. I can wash the dishes in the morning."

"I'll dry. I don't leave until eleven hundred."

She smiled. "Alright, military man."

She kissed his cheek and went to bed.

 

And woke three hours later. Someone was screaming in the distance.

She jumped out of bed, straightened her pajamas, and ran for it without really registering what she was running for. She heard a door open behind her.

"Wanda?" a voice called sleepily. "Maybe you shouldn't be the one who..."

She slowed. It was Marie. And it hit her at last that the screaming was coming from the east wing.

"Then come with me!" Wanda called over her shoulder. "But I'm going to check on him!"

She ran once more. There were striding footsteps behind her that she knew well: The Spine. Good. She was determined to try to help but if Norman had some kind of weird fits in the night, he could be dangerous.

They'd mentioned the nightmares, but he hadn't had one since before Lily was born. When his rooms were further away, only the robots could hear. The Spine had often gone to check on him, The Jon sometimes, Rabbit never. The nature of the nightmares had seen to that.

Wanda shivered. She was less than eager for the same reason, but she wasn't stopping now.

She crept to the door. The screaming had subsided into piteous sobs. She put her hand to her throat.

"I'm sorry..." he moaned.

She crept into the room just a little. "Norman?" she murmured.

He was just visible in the dim light from the moon outside. He was propped up on several pillows, sleeping on his side by necessity. One of those pillows was clutched in his arms. He pulled it against his face.

"No... don't hide," she whispered. "It's alright."

"No!" he choked into the pillow. "Now _all_ of them are dead!"

Oh. She felt the tiniest satisfaction in having predicted this... which faded as she heard his muffled moans. The sound struck her to the heart. To think she had ever thought he deserved to endure this torture! 

"Norman..." she breathed.

What could she say to calm him? She didn't know him well enough to understand how he saw things or what would soothe him.

"He was so kind to me!" Norman choked. "He forgave me, even though I murdered his brother, and your husband! And now he's dead, too, because of me! I killed them all!"

He broke down once more, shuddering and coughing with grief. Wanda started forward and felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Wait," The Spine whispered almost inaudibly, directly into her ear. "Give him a few minutes. Let him cry it out. Then you can go closer."

"Should I, though?" she whispered.

"Absolutely. He needs _you_ of all people to forgive him now. Alright? Maybe then he can start to forgive himself. None of us have been able to convince him."

"Alright," she breathed, aching.

"I'll be right outside the door if you need me."

"Spine!" she hissed. "Wait..."

She heard the door softly snick shut and felt rather like she'd been left inside a cage with a supposedly tame lion.

Well. She had insisted on trying...

She sat in a large soft chair just a bit away from the bed and waited. When his sobs had turned to weary sighs, she spoke.

"Norman... you aren't a murderer."

A deep sigh. He pulled the pillow down and rested the side of his head against it.

"I know," he said hoarsely. "And I don't know... I should have stopped him! I shouldn't have gone along with stealing Rabbit's core! I thought we'd be careful... remove it so that it could be replaced later... sounds idiotic. I thought a Blue Matter core was nothing more than a power source. So we could remove it and the Walters could just put in another. That's what he said on the way.

"That doesn't make it right, though. That's still just cruel and evil and awful. And maybe I just convinced myself of it so that I wouldn't feel too guilty to do what he said, because I always did what he said, and I wanted deep down to see if we could do it. Or maybe I was afraid of the rest of my family thinking I was a failure again. I... I don't know!

"But then when we got back to the park and he was there, Ignatius hit him with an electrical pulse and shut him off... and he said we needed to hurry because a storm was coming and..." He gulped and rasped, "I don't know how Miss Honey can stand me after that. She had to watch the whole thing!

"And the whole way back, it kept doing things... singing, chirping, flashing... I swear I saw it flash out an S.O.S. But Ignatius said I was crazy! I should have stood up to him, should have seen it! It wasn't just a power source! It _was_ Rabbit!"

He sobbed for a moment and continued, "So when they grabbed the wires, Rabbit fought back. He didn't know who it was and he just... killed them! That had to be it! He couldn't see what was happening or who was doing it and fought back and they died!"

Wanda had listened to the whole thing trembling, unsure what to say, wishing she didn't have to hear it, that she'd just stayed away and let someone else come and help.

"I... I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said that..." he whispered. "I never wanted to hurt you again..."

She was no longer surprised by the surge of sympathy she felt. He was in so much pain... even more than she had suffered!

"No... Norman, you didn't hurt me. I mean, it hurts to think about it because I miss them, but... well... I guess we need to talk about it sometime. Don't we? I've tried to make you welcome here but I can't keep pretending nothing happened. I think maybe you would be coping with this better if I had only let you talk about it."

"No! Please... this isn't because of you! I've had the nightmares for years! Please don't blame yourself!"

"I only blame myself when I _am_ to blame," she said, feeling oddly calm. She took a deep breath. "We should have talked about it, that's all. I should have been willing to listen. Uncle Peter tried to tell me..."

She trailed off, reminded all at once that Peter III was dead. She felt a lump in her throat, but she couldn't show her grief now. Norman was already crushed with guilt over it.

"You miss him," he whispered.

"Of course," she said thickly. "But it wasn't your fault so don't think it was! It was an accident, that's all! Like you said... Rabbit couldn't see and..."

She froze. Something had finally clicked.

"He didn't realize who it was! Norman... did you tell Rabbit that?" she breathed excitedly.

"Well, no... he's spoken to me a little but... we haven't really had a chat so to speak. And how could I? How do I dare even approach the subject?"

"Would you let me tell him, then? I understand that it might be awkward if you try and tell him, but it might help him to know your theory. If he realizes he had no idea who was attacking him, he might feel better. After all, he doesn't remember any of it, and yet Rabbit is the one person besides you and my father who might be said to be to blame for the deaths."

"No!" Norman gasped.

"He thinks so," she murmured.

He hadn't realized? How could he not know Rabbit blamed himself for their deaths? Ah, but that needed no answer. Norman had taken the blame fully upon himself. If only they knew how alike they were!

"Oh, how could Rabbit ever be to blame, after we..." Norman began, confirming her suspicions. "Yes, tell him, Wanda. _Please_ tell him."

"I will, then," she said firmly. "And maybe he'll stop giving me guilty looks around the manor."

She had tried to infuse it with a little dark humor, but Norman was silent. When he spoke at last, she could hear the grief in his voice.

"I'm _so sorry,_ Wanda... I know there's nothing I can say that can make up for what I've done... but I've wanted to say it since the day it happened. I've done you so much harm and you still allow me to live under your roof, even though you must..."

His voice broke. She didn't know how to respond. She didn't need to ask what he was sorry for... even if they hadn't been talking about it, she would have known. It was the elephant in the room every time they spoke. But she didn't feel the anger anymore. She'd been right... talking about it had made all the difference.

Wanda had not wanted to accept that he owned his guilt in the incident. But there was no avoiding the truth here, in the cold hours of the night when there was nowhere to hide, be it ever so dark. Norman was a man haunted not by what he had become, but by what he had once been and what he had done to others; a man broken more inside than outside.

The last of her harbored resentment crumbled. Too many people she loved were burdened by the same pain. She couldn't hold onto her anger any longer knowing he suffered he same way they did, and more.

"Thank you, Norman," she whispered at last. "And... I want you to know that I forgive you."

She wasn't surprised at the sounds of sobbing that followed. She would have liked to give him a hug to seal the words, but he could hardly be comfortable with physical contact in his shape, and she wasn't quite ready yet herself. She did rise and place one hand on his arm, giving it a little squeeze. It seemed feeble...

He placed a hand over hers briefly, looked up with his good eye, and whispered, "Thank you."

"Oh..." she breathed. She gently slid her hand away, not wanting to seem repulsed. "Do you need anything else, Norman?"

"I hate to ask..."

"I know. I'll tell you if it's too much, alright? So ask."

"Could you... just sit a while? Until I fall asleep. If that's too..."

"Alright. I don't mind that a bit."

"Oh... thank you."

"Not a problem."

She settled into the chair, which was at least very comfortable. By the time she calmed down enough herself to begin to feel a bit sleepy, she heard his breathing grow loud and even... not quite a snore but certainly a sign of unconsciousness.

When she left the room, The Spine had already gone.

 

Norman half-opened his eyes. She'd gone. Good. Having someone sit with him was comforting, but he didn't have the heart to let her fall asleep in his chair and get a kink in her neck.

Besides, he was already calmer than he'd been in years. He'd said it at last, at long last, and she forgave him! Now he might be able to find some sort of peace and even happiness. Maybe even Rabbit would forgive him someday, if Wanda could.

He closed his eyes. The voice was silent, for once in a long while. He sighed and focused on the lingering scent of her perfume until he really did fall asleep.


	5. Professors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Norman Becile settles in to Walter Manor at last, as the last barriers break away. And Wanda Hottie discovers a friend in her old enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The upward slope continues.

Wanda resolved to make it a point to talk to Norman more often. This was made easier when he started making regular forays into the household a few weeks after the funeral. The library soon became his favorite room besides his own. Wanda stopped there from time to time and chatted with him. It grew easier each time. He was very personable, it turned out, when he was relaxed, and told fascinating stories of the Cavalcadium.

One of the first chats they had, though, was when she visited his room and told him Rabbit's reaction to what Norman had explained.

"Are you sure you want to discuss this?" she asked gently.

Norman laughed softly, but he was wringing his hands. "Of course not, my dear. What I truly want is something I cannot have. I want Rabbit to forgive me. But I also feel I could never ask that of him."

"Someday, though, Norman? Surely someday Rabbit will be able to move past it? I have, after all. If I can forgive you, isn't it proof that Rabbit can?"

"Ah, but that's different. You had much to forgive, but Rabbit had that and the added pain of his own unjustified guilt. The only thing harder than forgiving yourself for a terrible act is forgiving someone who led you to do it. I understand, really I do. I've suffered the same difficulties in forgiving Ignatius, because he was a party to my own actions."

"Why forgive him at all?" she asked darkly. "He doesn't deserve it."

"I understand. I said myself, once, that I'd never forgive him. To this day he thinks it, and I still can't truthfully send him so much as a letter to say that I've relented. I guess... I'm also having a hard time convincing myself that he deserves it."

She sighed. She shouldn't wish Ignatius was dead, but she had, many times. He had managed to gum up the process, however. The Beciles had a lot of money and their lawyers had kept up the appeals process consistently since his conviction.

"But then, there are many who would say the same of me..." Norman continued.

He trailed off. Wanda's face burned. She had been just such a person not long ago.

"I'm sorry..." he began.

"No. You're very right. I apologize for taking so long to forgive you, Norman. And I applaud your efforts to forgive Ignatius. I still can't do it. But in deference to you, I'll try, because I've learned what a relief it is to let go of the burden."

She smiled at him and he did the same, only to look hastily down at his hands.

"Thank you for that. For everything. I can't begin to express how deeply grateful I am for your kindness to me. I can never thank you enough..."

"Norman..." she scolded. "You can and you have. I only want you to thank me for new things from now on. If I bring you something or help you with something or compliment you on your shirt, you may thank me. But as I told you... allowing you to join this family was the right thing to do. I see it now. Uncle Peter understood that before any of us."

They sat briefly in silence as though agreed upon. Each still felt the loss of Peter III deeply.

"Then I thank you for the sentiment," he murmured at last. "And for speaking to Rabbit. But you haven't told me his response."

"Of... of course," she said a little thickly.

She sniffled and Norman hastily tugged open his desk drawer and produced a handkerchief. She took it, smiling through her tears.

"Thank you. Well, he was reluctant to hear it, naturally. But I am one of the few people who he won't push away when the subject comes up. I think he would feel too guilty if he did, and I shamelessly took advantage of that." She giggled softly and Norman smiled. "He did cry a little..."

"Naturally," Norman murmured.

"But... he thanked me. He said he appreciated hearing it. He thinks you're right, because he doesn't remember any of it, just a blank sector with a time stamp, and that means he had no external input. And he said that he might someday forgive himself. I was honestly surprised that he admitted even that."

"Oh... but..."

"It's a start, Norman."

"Of course. Very good. Then... thank you, Wanda. For something new, of course."

She laughed gently and wiped her eyes once more. Poor Norman... He was trying so hard! And if he was willing to try, with all that he had to do just to get through the day, then she would just have to help him as much as she could.

 

Norman basked in her smile. He'd been so happy just to have her forgiveness, but here they were, sitting and having a conversation! It was more than he'd let himself hope for in the long nights alone in his room. Maybe they could someday be friends, even...

But that was asking a lot. Civility was already a gift in itself. Being forgiven, if not by Rabbit then at least by her, was an inestimable treasure. And though she disagreed, he knew that he really couldn't thank her enough, not enough to express how he felt about it at least.

Ignatius would have accused him of being insufferably grateful, he was sure. But Ignatius had accused him of a lot of things. Fortunately, he was also no longer his problem. He'd been haunted too long by the scorn of people who should have loved him.

As absurd as it seemed, he was far happier among his enemies than he'd ever been with his family.

 

Two weeks later, Peter IV came home with startling news.

"He's alive, Wanda! I found him!"

She stared as he hugged her, laughing. She couldn't take it in.

"Mark's little boy?" she gasped against his shoulder.

"Peter V!" he crowed, kissing her briskly on the forehead. "Our nephew is coming home! Oh, I wonder how much he looks like Mark!"

"We just have the one baby photo..." she said blankly.

"You okay?"

"What? Oh... yes, I'm just shocked to my toenails! Where is he now?"

"In an orphanage in Maryland! Can you believe it? They had no idea who he even was or who his family was. Mark had just moved into a new boarding house with him before the accident."

"But... boarding house? Were they that badly off?" she cried.

"I guess so. He had no one to leave the kid with but the landlady and she apparently couldn't be bothered to put him on a bus or something so she just took him to the cops and they handed him over to a bunch of nuns. If I hadn't heard from a friend of a friend that Mark was dead we wouldn't even have known that much." He huffed irritably, but there were tears in his eyes. "And he was too proud to make sure his kid would come to us if anything happened! Just because he and Dad got into that stupid argument! If the stubborn jackass had just swallowed his pride and called home, Dad would have forgiven him for everything and the poor kid..."

His voice choked off and she hugged him once more. "Maybe when he heard Dad was dead, he figured he'd missed his chance and we wouldn't forgive him."

"Idiot. It was a stupid argument anyway. What was it... something about money?"

"I can't even remember," she sighed. "Isn't that typical? Whatever it was, it couldn't have been that important." The shock had passed enough that her common sense now had a chance to rear its head. "What are we doing, eating our hearts out about Mark when little Peter is still in that orphanage! Have you told them we're coming to get him?" she asked.

"Oh, uh... I called and said I was his uncle..."

"That's it?"

"I was trying to make sure I had the right kid! Then the time ran out on the call and I was out of dimes..."

"Oh, Peter!" she scoffed, hurrying to the telephone. "You should have called from here, you silly thing! We have just enough time before Thanksgiving to fly out and get him! Go pack a few things and I'll call them right away. What's the number?"

He handed her a slip of paper. "Oh, by the way... I was thinking of bringing The Spine."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because once the robots hear that Mark's kid is alive, they'll all want to go. But of course we can't take them all, so I'd have to put my foot down and ask them to pick one. And The Spine usually wins that argument through sheer stubbornness so I'm just planning ahead. Also, the kid might find it scary to come home to a bunch of robots. Maybe if he has a plane trip with one first it'll help."

She couldn't argue with that. She quickly made the arrangements and by evening, she, Peter, and The Spine were heading for Maryland.

 

Two days later, she walked back into Walter Manor still fighting tears. He looked so much like his father and he was such a well-behaved child! The two qualities just did not match...

But she soon grew accustomed to the quiet and curious boy. He wasn't much like Mark; more like their father, Peter II. She couldn't bring herself to send him to school just yet, and so she took it upon herself to teach him at home until he got his bearings. The Walters had often done so and there was even a little school room in the manor for the purpose. Once cleaned, it did very nicely.

But before long, she found she was a bit rusty at just about everything a boy his age was meant to learn. Peter ended up teaching her as much as she did him. Marie stepped in and carried the load for a while, bringing her up to speed on modern education. But this had a side effect... She remembered how much she loved teaching. When Davy grew old enough to start school, rather than bringing him into the classroom with Peter, Marie proposed that he needed to go to public school... and that she was going, too.

Wanda took the news as well as could be expected, but nursed a silent dismay. What would she do now?

Marie, in typical fashion, had a plan already in mind.

"How about Norman?" she asked one evening after dinner.

"Oh, I don't want to bother him..." she said uneasily. They were on friendly terms now but she didn't know that they had reached the point of being able to ask for favors...

"Bother? I think he'd adore it! He's already become friends with Peter, and Norman is too danged smart to be left to gardening all the time. I know he likes to play at being too damaged to remember being a scientist but you and I both know he didn't lose a single brain cell."

"True. It didn't damage his brain, just his body. And his spirit, I suppose. I think he just lost any interest in it."

"And no wonder, with that family! Some people ought not to be allowed to have kids! But that's no excuse to let his mind rot away like that."

"He's not. He reads a lot and his work with the garden keeps him busy."

"Oh, I know. He sure does a good job with those roses. But I meant the other areas. He may not want to do science anymore but he's let slip before just how much he knows about higher mathematics. I'm sure he could at least step in to help with arithmetic."

"That would be nice..." Wanda admitted. She could perform advanced scientific experiments but, ironically, had never been on very good terms with basic sums and her struggle peaked at long division, so Marie had been teaching that so far.

But while they agreed, they needed _him_ to do the same. Norman, when Wanda asked, was astonished at first. But to her surprise, he said he would be delighted to help.

So the work began. Norman not only knew math but clearly enjoyed it, and Peter seemed to enjoy learning it from him. Wanda sat by sometimes and watched, even though she was supposed to be grading other subjects.

One thing she noticed was that Peter was a bright child, but no genius. There had certainly been geniuses in her family, her father and older brother among them. But she had never quite reached that level herself, and it seemed her nephew was the same. No big deal, of course. Being above average had been good enough for her.

Norman, however... For all his protests, as Marie had observed, he was very intelligent indeed. He reminded her sometimes of Col. Walter, who had without question had genius level intellect. But her grandfather had also had his moments of arrogant, pompous behavior. Never to his grandchildren, of course. Sometimes to his sons, more often to other Cavalcadium members.

But Norman? She'd seen him distressed, but never angry, or even annoyed. Had he always been like this? And with these observations she would feel a fresh stab of guilt. She had misjudged him again and again.

But now that they had cleared the air between them, Norman was friendly, casual and warm. Just when she would feel uneasy speaking to him, he would greet her with a smile and soon she was at ease. It was astonishing when she thought it over... that she could ever have become friends with Norman after the way they'd started. But she was glad to realize one day that they had become just that.

 

Norman was content. Teaching had given him a real purpose outside of horticulture and he cherished the time spent at it. Peter was understandably taken aback when he first met Norman. But once they got to know one another a little better, he was friendly and eager to please, and they got along well.

He enjoyed seeing Wanda teaching, as well. She had a different manner as a teacher, though it seemed likely she was uncomfortable in the role. She'd been so thrilled when they brought Peter home; a newborn baby could scarcely have pleased her better. And she had taken to the work of becoming his guardian with obvious joy. Norman was flattered that she had come to trust him enough to share the work she had taken so wholly upon herself.

It was also nice to talk to a child again. Norman had always liked having conversations with the younger family members, sometimes even the ones who took after the older Beciles. There was an innocent, unassuming manner to them that made it easier to be himself, and he enjoyed hearing what they had to say. The older family members scoffed when some called Norman their favorite uncle, and in the end only a couple of the children resisted the corrupt poison spoken by their parents.

But Peter was a Walter, and from his own accounts had been raised by _mostly_ kindly nuns, especially the one called Sister Alberta. Even when he struggled over a concept, the worst he did was sulk. But he was a bright boy and seldom struggled in math, making it a favorite time for them both.

Other subjects, however, were not as pleasant for Peter. Norman and Wanda would sometimes sit after classes and chuckle over the boy's writing assignments... he wasn't much of a speller and had little patience with literary analysis. 

"What a creative way to spell 'camera'," Norman chortled, returning a page of spelling sentences.

"I know! It's a good thing the assigned spelling word was 'expose,'" she giggled. "He points that sort of thing out every time he misspells a word that isn't on the actual assigned word list. 'If it's not on the list it doesn't count, Aunt Wanda!'"

Norman laughed. "I'm lucky, then. If he wasn't so adept at arithmetic, I'd have to field his gift for rhetoric."

She beamed. "Well, I'd better be gathering up. I still have to grade the mathematics papers..."

He watched her, a little dismayed that she was already leaving for the day.

"But couldn't I help with that?" he asked quickly. "I teach the subject, after all."

"Oh, it's enough of a bother that you do that, Norman..."

He laughed dryly. "Yes, it does take such a toll on my busy schedule."

She looked surprised and he wondered whether he should have been quite so sarcastic. Maybe she thought he was being too familiar.

"Well, I suppose..." she mused. "But I have to get dinner started."

"After dinner, then...?" he suggested.

_Please say yes..._

Wanda chewed her lip thoughtfully. That was adorable... but was he pushing too hard? Maybe he shouldn't have suggested it?

"Alright."

He almost gasped.

"I always struggle over it, anyway. I'd appreciate your help. I'll bring some coffee and we'll get it all taken care of," she said pleasantly.

"Wonderful. It's a date!" he chuckled.

Wanda stared and he felt the blood rush to his face.

_Stupid! Stupid Norman!_

"I'm _so_ sorry..." he stammered.

"No... it's just an expression..." she said faintly, hastily gathering the papers and hurrying to the door.

He rose as she walked away, half-reaching toward her. But she kept going and he turned away, clutching the chair with white knuckles as the spiraling thoughts came once more, bringing with them a tortuous surge of anxiety.

_You were on thin ice as it was. You may think you're friends, but don't friends do things together outside of work? And has she ever suggested it? No. The occasional chat doesn't make you bosom friends, you pathetic fool! Surely you didn't think she would actually want to come, especially after you said something stupid like that! And now... will she even want to talk to you after class?_

"See you after dinner," she called pleasantly.

Norman looked up abruptly. She was in the doorway, smiling gently. His heart leapt and he hastily blinked away the tears that had come unbidden to his mismatched eyes.

"Alright?" she prompted.

"See you then," he replied, a tad huskily.

The panic had already begun to dissipate. He smiled just a little as she waved and left.

 

That evening he took his dinner to his room. He just felt as though he couldn't bear to sit with her, knowing she would be coming to his room later. It sounded far more sexy than it really was, especially considering they were barely friends, but even the idea of sitting and grading papers with her made him nervous, despite the conversations they'd had in the past. But the memory of her pleasant farewell was enough to keep his simmering doubts at bay.

She rapped at the door around seven and he jumped. "Come in," he called, trying to look as though he'd been reading the whole time instead of staring at the wall and practicing small talk.

Wanda slipped into the room, carrying a small tray and a bundle of papers. She rested the tray on his desk.

"Hello! How was dinner?"

"Oh, um... it was delicious. Thank you."

"Good! I was a little worried that you might not be feeling well..."

"Oh! Yes, well... I didn't want you to get tired of seeing me," he chuckled weakly.

"Oh, Norman," she scoffed, smiling. She settled in at the desk and began to shuffle through the papers. "Here. Oh, the cup with the pink rose pattern is yours."

"How lovely. Thank you," he murmured, rising from his seat and taking the cup.

She was still busy with the papers. "I only have the test and two homework assignments to go over with you, and I do still have to look over his essay and history test," she said.

"Well... won't they keep until after coffee? I know I said I'd help but it doesn't seem nice to drink mine while yours grows cold."

She looked up at last. "Oh! How considerate, Norman! Well... I suppose we could go ahead and have it, and _then_ get to work."

He smiled and settled into his plush chair. She rotated in the desk chair and picked up her cup.

"This is delicious, by the way," he murmured.

Her cheeks pinked slightly. "Thank you. Marie tells me every day how good my coffee is, but I think she wants to make sure I keep doing it since she still can't!"

Norman chortled. "Marie is a bright, charming and kind woman. If she was good at cooking, it would be unfair to the rest of the world that one person could excel in so many areas."

"Well said," Wanda said approvingly. "And she makes The Spine happy. That's good enough."

They each sipped from their cups and Norman wracked his brain for something else to talk about. It was absurd that he should struggle; they chatted all the time in the classroom. But here, he was at a loss.

"Norman," Wanda murmured. "Since we're here alone, I wonder if I could ask a fairly personal question."

He shivered a little. What ever did she mean?

"You can certainly ask, Wanda. I encourage you to ask as freely as you want. I won't be angry or offended. But... I can't promise to answer. If you accept those terms, then ask."

"Good enough," she replied. "I wonder... Did your family harm you? You know... were they cruel to you? I do understand perfectly if you don't want to answer..."

"Wanda!" he gasped. "What brought on such a question?"

"Oh, now I've upset you..." she said sadly. "Forget I asked..."

"No... no, not at all. I think it's fair that you should be want to become better acquainted with my past since we essentially work together now. I just... wondered how you knew."

She sighed. "It was little things here and there, I suppose. First, Uncle Peter told me. He said you didn't want to go home. That they mistreated you, and told you to... to blame us for the accident."

He stared studiously at his coffee cup. "That was reason enough to not want to live with them. It was unconscionable..."

"I know, but... well, even if he hadn't told me, I still could have figured out that you'd had a rather difficult life even before the accident. Part of it is how you talk to Peter in class. You seem... well, perhaps I'd better not go further."

"No, it's quite alright. As I said, I want us to be frank with one another. Those sorts of secrets don't suit people sharing a household. But I'm still not sure what it is you're hoping to learn."

"Well... Sometimes you seem nervous, and others you seem like you're trying to make him understand something beyond the numbers... I just got the feeling you might be remembering things in your own boyhood. But you never talk about problems even though I know you must have had them, and... I just want to make sure you feel secure here. The idea of anyone in this house being afraid to mingle freely with the family and to speak openly... well, I know you wouldn't know it from how I acted when you first came here, but I just don't like to think that you feel you must keep to yourself. We all know who you are, we've all seen how you look. The children adore you. So why are you still so reserved?"

"I suppose I've settled in my old age," he chuckled feebly.

"Silly thing," she scoffed. "You're what? About forty? Hardly old."

"Sometimes I feel old."

"You don't look it. Well... I mean..." she faltered.

"Don't I?" he asked softly.

She blinked. "Not really, no. Oh, to be sure, your hair is retreating a bit, if you don't mind my saying so..."

"Not at all. It was expected. But... you mean that you can tell whether I look older?"

She sipped her coffee. "Oh, sure. The skin tells the tale. Still fairly smooth. And your body isn't terribly deformed, really. Not that you can see. Just a little ridge in the back."

"Thank you," he murmured. "I haven't really spoken about it much since it happened. Everyone gets too uncomfortable."

"Not terribly surprising. But I am determined I won't be so easily cowed!"

He smiled. She was right. It really was very nice to be able to be so open. He made up his mind at last to answer her question.

"To tell the truth, yes... they treated me very poorly. It wasn't easy to recognize it because it was all I knew. But there was always the feeling that things simply couldn't always be my fault. Even when the source of a problem was clearly beyond my control, I was blamed. Ignatius especially seemed to resent me. I suppose being half brothers may have contributed to that. I was not the child of a second marriage. Father was unfaithful to Ignatius' mother with one of the maids and I was the result."

"How awful! Then I suppose he was angry at your father and took it out on you. Many children do act out their resentment this way."

Since Peter's arrival, Wanda had been working her way through a stack of library books on the subject of child rearing and child psychology. Norman smiled a little.

"Ah, if he'd been a child I could understand somewhat. But he was seventeen years older than I was."

"My goodness... Do you mean to tell me he was cruel to an innocent child because of your father's mistake?"

"Well, that was a part of it. Also, my father was not a kind man... like so many Beciles. Ignatius took after him either by birth or example. Both, I suppose. He used to tell me terrible things. When I was very small, he made sure I knew I was born of the sin of my father and that I was a mistake who was lucky to have been allowed to live under their roof. It was positively Victorian Gothic."

Wanda's face had pinked and she held her coffee as though she had forgotten it was something to drink. "Norman... but how horrific! You grew up..." Her voice shook as she continued, "thinking you were a burden and a sin?"

"I'm so sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to make you sad."

"Sorry?" she choked. "Norman, don't even try to tell me that! You have nothing to be sorry for!"

He did, so very much to be sorry for, but he wouldn't have argued with her for any sum of money.

"Oh, if I had one of them here!" she growled. "Those brutes!"

"Well, now... to be fair, Ignatius really was the worst. The rest simply didn't notice me."

"That hardly absolves them of guilt! Well, I just hope I never do meet them now! Because I'd give them a piece of my mind they weren't ready for! Oh... oh, dear, Norman... are there any younger family members?"

"A few."

"Oh, that's terrible! Then they still live there?"

"Unfortunately, yes. They should fare better than I did, though, since none were born on the wrong side of the sheets. But some are less like the usual... kinder, I think. I got along better with them. I do manage to send a letter from time to time, and I hope they know from it that there's a chance of getting out."

"So do I," she sighed.

"Well..." He'd hoped the conversation would be more pleasant. Still, her righteous outrage was surprisingly heart-warming. "I think we had better get to work."

"Right."

 

Wanda threw herself into the task, trying to push the conversation aside for now. But her heart ached, both at the thought that any child should have to grow up in such a cruel environment, and at the realization that she had come along and treated him the same way the adults had when he was little.

She'd been so sure of her actions, once! But she'd been blinded by her own pain, unwilling or unable to see the pain of others. And she'd had the actual nerve to forgive _him!_

Well, to be fair, there was reason, and he had been wracked with guilt, so telling him that had been the right thing to do. But... now that his wrongs had been expunged, she felt now that hers stood out that much more starkly, and it hurt.

They finished the math, but she couldn't bring herself to leave until she made things right. And she couldn't find a way to begin, so instead she pulled out the next subject and began to grade it, hoping she wasn't imposing.

But Norman, to her relief, continued to help and the work went quickly. Math was clearly his specialty, but he was well-educated and it showed. Before it was even late, they were done with everything.

Wanda slowly gathered the papers and laid them on the tray. Norman was finishing an anecdote about a old college professor of his.

"He seemed to think I'd make a good writer," he chuckled. "He didn't know how long it took to finish even one paragraph of that assignment!"

She smiled weakly.

"Oh, but you must be very tired. My apologies. Do you need any help?"

"Oh, Norman, you've helped enough..."

"Not at all, it was a pleasure. I've had too much leisure. I find this work very rewarding!"

"I'm glad..." she murmured. "Look... Norman... I just... want to say I'm so sorry. I treated you like a monster for years when you'd already lived most of your life being treated that way! I didn't realize... but that's no excuse! If I had just trusted Uncle Peter and made the effort to forgive..."

Norman looked thoroughly frightened. "Wanda! Please! You don't need to..."

"Yes, I do!" she sobbed. "I need to say it, okay?"

"Alright..." he whispered, wringing his hands.

"I'm just... sorry..." she finished. "That's it. I should have treated you better. Please forgive me."

Norman chortled softly and handed her a tissue. His hand was shaking as she took it.

"Of course I forgive you," he said gently. "You forgave me, and I never had any malice for how you treated me. I felt it was just."

"So did I," she whispered. "And that's why I'm so sorry."

 

And with that, what barriers remained seemed gone for good. Their after-dinner "teacher meetings" became a regular appointment; at first for the sincere purpose of working on Peter's education, later just to chat. Norman became more familiar in the household as well, sometimes spending evenings with the rest of the family, including Rabbit, who still eyed him awkwardly but had softened up enough to join in games where Norman was a player.

Before Peter V had been there for more than a year, however, the assimilation of Norman into the family was awkwardly interrupted by some long-awaited news. Ignatius had reached his last appeal, and the final verdict would be reached in a few days. If it failed, nothing would remain to prevent his execution.

Wanda suggested playing some Scrabble to distract themselves the afternoon of the verdict, but Norman declined to leave his room and Peter IV had gone to San Francisco to hear the outcome in person. So Marie and Wanda sat, playing with little interest, while Lily babbled in her playpen and the boys played elsewhere in the manor. The robots huddled together nearby in apparent silence... no doubt comforting one another over radio connections.

The phone rang and Marie offered to answer it. Even the high frequency crackle that accompanied the robots' radio communications ceased as they waited. Marie returned, wearing a nervous smile, and told them the news: the appeal was denied and the execution would be carried out on March 5th, 1957.

The first reaction was a painful sort of elation. Hugs and tears shared all around the room. Rabbit, sitting curled on the sofa, nodding as if to himself. The Spine and The Jon still next to him, offering comfort, though there could only be so much joy under the circumstances. No matter how much they had wanted this, it stirred up bitter memories and was a very cold comfort indeed, knowing that their joy was wrapped up in a man's death.

But of course, that death held an extra burden. Wanda sat staring at the empty spaces at the table. Did Norman know? It was a high-profile case and it might have been announced over the radio...

Marie, wiping tears, walked to her with Lily on her hip. "Should I go tell Norman?"

"He... I don't know. He said he still couldn't forgive Ignatius..."

"But he'd want to know. He's still his brother."

"Yes, his brother who treated him like garbage all his life!" Wanda said, surprised at the anger in her voice. 

"I know, hon... but... Norman's such a sweet guy. And I've known people whose families were awful to them and... they know they don't deserve it but danged if they don't feel guilty when bad things happen anyway. It's sick, is what it is."

"Kind of. But you're right. He's a very sweet guy. And he's had years but you know he still feels guilty. Guess I understand. He can't ever just forget, with that eye and all the rest..."

"So maybe I'll..."

"No. Let me, Marie... We've been getting on so well and you've got the kids to tend to. I can sit up with him if that's what he wants."

"Alright..." Marie drawled in a resigned voice as Wanda hurried out.

 

"Norman?"

There was a soft tap at the door to go with the voice. Norman looked up, astonished. He felt the most painful mixture of joy and agony at hearing her voice.

Joy, because he had heard the broadcast and needed a friend. Ignatius was going to be executed. His reason told him it was well deserved, but somehow he could only feel the weight of his own part in all of it.

And that was the agony. Because Ignatius would die for shooting all those people, but they had both killed Wanda's father as well as her husband. Why had she come to see him? Didn't she know? Surely she did; Peter had gone to observe. He must have told them by now. If he had, he couldn't imagine she would want to speak to Norman, with all those memories stirred up afresh. Maybe they had become friends, but beneath that friendship still lay a foundation born of a terrible event.

She knocked again. He could tell her to go, but would she understand why? Or would she think their friendship wasn't strong enough to overcome the past?

_Is it, in fact? Or are you deluding yourself just as you have since you helped murder her loved ones?_

"No..." he whimpered, clutching his ears as if to block the sound.

The door opened. Wanda stood, staring at him. He looked away.

"Norman?" she murmured. "I guess you've heard."

He nodded, trying to compose himself. "Of course, my dear. It... it was the right decision."

"I think so, but... Are you alright?"

He looked at her in surprise.

"Well... I just figured... I mean, I was talking to Marie, and we sort of figured you'd be having a hard time with it. He is still your brother."

"Yes," he said softly. "I want to hate him... Even with all my attempts to forgive, I have wanted so many times to curse him and forget about him. But... there were just enough good times. Just enough times he took my part or seemed to care about me. He... he tried to save my life. When I leaned out..."

He stopped. He'd never spoken about that moment to her. He couldn't. It was horrible, cruel. She didn't need that image haunting her dreams as it did his.

"When you leaned out to warn them to get back," she finished.

"Yes," he sighed. So she knew.

"Uncle Peter told me about it. So don't feel you can't mention it." Wanda moved closer. "May I sit?"

"Of course!" he gushed, so relieved he could have wept. "I... I was rather afraid you'd not want to come anywhere near me, today of all days..."

She sank into a chair near him and reached out, resting her hand on his. "Oh, Norman... I'd have thought the same of you."

 

Wanda sat with him well into the night, talking... sometimes about books or music, sometimes about his family. There were tears shed, but fortunately no nightmares when Norman did at last go to sleep. He had a feeling throughout that she'd had that exact motive when she came there.

The next day he received a telegram from one of his nieces. She was hoping that everyone could make their peace with Ignatius before he died.

Norman sighed as he read it, with Wanda, who had brought it, standing anxiously nearby. "Dear Augusta. She always had a tender heart. Too tender to be a proper Becile, to my mind."

"Well, then maybe what makes a proper Becile isn't as clear as you think," Wanda suggested. "You have a tender heart, too."

"Thank you. It was always represented to me as being a liability. But I think I agree with you. Clearly there's a strain of Becile DNA that allows for kindness."

He did his best, but it went no better than the last time. Ignatius was older, of course, but so visibly so that Norman half-expected him to pass away before his execution.

Had he thought it would succeed? Not a bit. But it still hurt when it failed, if only because of Augusta.

And it hadn't been easy to make the visit. Marie's sister had arranged with a friend for Norman and Peter IV to travel to San Francisco by air, but it had still been a long trip and he'd had to wear an eye patch, a parka and have his left arm bandaged to cover his fingers. By the time they returned home, two days after leaving, he was drained... from the journey as much as the attempted reconciliation.

He opted to stay home when Peter IV went back for the execution. There was nothing more to be said; seeing Ignatius struggling for breath would only add to his torment. Justice had been served. That book was closed.

Rabbit went along with Peter, but Wanda remained behind and came to Norman's room without invitation the day of the execution, where she stayed, even dozing off on the small sofa in his sitting room around eleven that night. He considered fetching The Spine to take her to bed, but instead lay on his own bed, fully clothed, and went to sleep. 

When he woke, the room was neat and tidy, all the debris from their long vigil cleared away. A note lay on his desk.

"Come in to breakfast if you like. Maybe I can help you with the roses today."

Once upon a time, he would have told himself he didn't deserve it. But they were friends now, and Ignatius had paid the price for cutting short so many lives. It was time to go forward.

Norman showered, dressed, and went to the dining room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're dear friends now... but in the next chapter, time has passed and things have begun to turn.


	6. La Belle et la Bête (Beauty and the Beast)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Light is seen, if only by one of them.

As the years passed, Wanda became Norman's conduit to the outside world. He spent a great deal of time in the garden, but despite the journey he had made to visit Ignatius, he was usually afraid to stir beyond the gates of the property. So Wanda would tell him all about places she went, what happened there, who was with her, everything.

He grew to be a favorite of the rest of the household as well, even the children. Lily was delighted with him and would toddle over and reach up her tiny arms to be lifted which, with great care, he could just manage with one hand, using the crook of his other arm to support her bottom. Once there, she would smile and pat his strange face with no sign of dismay. Norman, in turn, was delighted to let her.

Davy swore Norman had the best stories of anyone. Peter V had taken to calling him Professor Becile while working on math, and Uncle Norman other times. Eventually Lily joined Peter in the school room and similarly called each of them "Teacher" during school hours.

Norman seemed content, to be now so fully part of the household. But Wanda began to feel concern for him, being cooped up all the time. To be sure, he always said he was fine, and content to be there. He even had one or two old friends come to visit; people he had once lost contact with because his family had regarded them as riffraff.

But she still felt it would be nice for him to get out once in a while, and she had a plan.

 

"Nearly ten years living here. I never would have thought," Norman told her one evening as they ate together. 

He still preferred to eat in his room, due to the difficulties of his sharpened teeth and strange, serpentine tongue. But Wanda wasn't troubled by this... she actually found them rather fascinating... and would sometimes join him for meals, occasionally bringing Peter with her. The antics of the rambunctious children at the dinner table could wear on her nerves, but Peter was old enough to behave when he wasn't around them, and she didn't want him to think she was avoiding him.

Tonight, though, she'd contrived to dine with Norman alone. She didn't want him to feel too pressured...

"I know. You've become such a part of the family, Norman," she murmured warmly.

"Thank you, my dear," he said cordially. "Quite a significant step up from the one I was born to. I was never considered satisfactory, much less loved."

Wanda ached when he told her things like that. How could they not have loved him? He may have been different then... she didn't know. But she couldn't imagine him ever having been less than thoroughly lovable.

How the times had changed!

"Norman," she said, a little shyly. "Would you consider an outing?"

He looked astonished. "In theory, certainly. In practice?" He chuckled dryly.

"I know the obvious objections, sweetheart," she said witheringly.

Norman's eyes opened ever so slightly wider. She thought she saw a little pink in his cheeks. It hit her a second later.

_She had called him sweetheart._

Of course, she called everyone that, but... it suddenly felt so loaded! They had certainly become great friends over the years, laughing together, working in the garden, reading together, sometimes whispering in the dark when she would come to comfort him after a nightmare. No matter what he had once been to her, she shouldn't have to feel awkward calling him sweetheart!  _No,_ she thought rebelliously, _I'll call him that if I want!_

But... once was enough for one conversation...

"I... I mean, Halloween is coming, so..." she stammered.

Norman burst out laughing and Wanda's face burned.

"I didn't mean..." she began.

"That I'm so terrifying that I could only be seen in public on Halloween?" he chuckled. "But my dear, that's inspired! Where would we go, though?"

Wanda recovered from her astonishment quickly. She'd expected more of a fight.

"There's going to be a nice little festival in the park. If we dress you up a bit so that it appears you're wearing a costume, we could go while Marie and Spine take the kids trick-or-treating."

"Oh! That sounds wonderful! Hardly anyone comes to the manor for treats. I never get to see the decorations or costumes."

What he described as "hardly anyone" was, in fact, no one. Wanda used to set up a table by the gates and hand out candy there, but it was still off the beaten track and few came by even then.

"Alright, then," she murmured. "I wonder what I should wear..."

"I have suggestions, but I hesitate to make them..."

"Why, Norman! You can tell me whatever you want!"

His gaze lingered on hers for a heartbeat and she felt all of a sudden as though she'd said something more than she'd intended. She'd only meant that they were good friends and could share freely, but he was giving her such a look! What exactly was he thinking of telling her?

"I... I just thought you might find the idea offensive," he said a little breathlessly.

"Norman... What costume? You have me in terrible suspense!"

He chuckled and she felt the tension had broken at last. What in the world had just happened?

"I had thought the best approach would be for our costumes to match in some fashion."

She smirked. "That was a pun."

"Oh! I apologize!"

Wanda giggled. "You know I love a pun. Go on. How should our costumes match?"

"Well... others might accept that I am only wearing a costume if I portray a beast from some old fairy tale or novel, and you could dress as a character from the same story..."

"Norman! Really! You're not a beast!"

It was a little hard to tell, but she could have sworn he was giving her a withering look. He held up his mutilated hand and tipped his head. She looked away, pouting.

"It's just not nice," she muttered petulantly. "You're _not_ a beast!"

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice low and sincere, and chills shot up her spine. He sounded so warm... he really had such a nice voice...

She sighed. "Well... what costumes did you think would convince people?"

"I considered Esmeralda and the Hunchback of Notre Dame. But her virtue was... somewhat in question... so if you would rather not dress as her, then possibly..."

She looked up when he didn't finish. "Come now, Norman. Aren't we very good friends? I'm still curious."

"Beauty and the Beast," he said faintly, looking steadily at her.

Her heart gave a little thump. "Oh... um... oh, that one would be lovely..."

"Really?" he asked, brightening.

"Why, yes! I've always loved that story, and it's so sweet!"

"But... you wouldn't feel uncomfortable with the implications..."

The chills were back. "What implications?"

"That, well..."

_Don't say it,_ she thought with a sudden stab of panic.

"That you made me stay in your castle because of a stolen rose?" she stammered, giggling a little madly.

Norman chuckled as though not in the least bothered... but she could see that he was kneading the belt of his bathrobe in one hand, as though nervous.

"Well," he murmured, "To be truthful, I always found it troubling that she fell in love with her captor. The psychological implications are worrying! But it's more pleasant than the other suggestion, isn't it?"

"It really is. I'd be delighted to be Beauty to your Beast."

And there it was again. The vague idea that she had said more than she had meant. A feeling of suspense between them.

"What sort of dress should I wear, though?" she said quickly. "Something old-fashioned, I should think..."

"Possibly take inspiration from the film by Cocteau?" he offered. "The costumes were charming."

"They were, but... also pretty elaborate."

"Whatever you choose, I'm sure you'll be lovely," Norman said softly.

She looked at him in surprise, her heart thumping. He broke first, turning away for a sip of coffee.

Wanda rose, shaking. "Well... I have to get the dishes taken care of so I'll let you relax..." 

She gathered the dinner things, his coffee cup last of all. Their hands touched as she took it from him and she shivered.

"The nights are getting a bit cool," she said quickly.

"Hm?" he murmured. "Oh, of course. Goodnight... Beauty."

There was a little whimsical smile on his strange face. Wanda felt the chills once more.

"Goodnight..." She turned away with the tray. "My Beast."

She rushed through the door and almost ran to the kitchen.

 

Wanda, with some help from Marie and some old clothes, managed to make a couple of old-fashioned costumes. Marie was far too giggly in the process and Wanda found herself growing irritated as the work progressed, but in the end she and Norman looked like the fairy tale couple.

Marie put on the same simple witch costume she wore every year and headed out with the children to trick or treat. The Spine joined them dressed as the tin man... an easy costume for him... holding hands with Lily, who was dressed as Dorothy. Davy and Peter had refused suggestions to dress as the scarecrow and the cowardly lion and instead dressed as spacemen in honor of Peter IV's approaching flight.

Rabbit and Honey were in the living room, Honey plugged into the wall. They were settled in with the The Jon and the last two functioning "lesser robots" to watch back-to-back creature features on the TV.

Wanda and Norman strolled to the park arm in arm. At least, they tried to stroll... but Norman tended to slow down or turn his face away every time they passed anyone.

It had seemed like a good idea. No one would know the difference, no one would suspect. Wanda was confident of that... but Norman wasn't. She could feel the tension in his arm as she held it. He was nervous, and she understood. She was, too, not because she thought anyone would look twice at their costumes, but because she was walking arm in arm with Norman.

At the same time, she was angry with herself. Here she had become such good friends with him, claiming to accept him and forgive him, and she couldn't touch him without tensing? What must he think of her? And because he was nervous, she was nervous for him. 

They reached the gates of the park and saw people in elaborate costumes passing inside.

"Ready?" Wanda asked.

"I think so..."

"Oh! What amazing costumes!" cried a young woman.

Wanda turned and saw a girl in a princess costume standing with a young man dressed as a space alien. They were smiling.

"Beauty and the Beast, right?" the girl chuckled. "Of course, he usually looks like an animal, a lion or boar or something. That's a clever twist, making him look like a deformed man. Really brings it up to date."

Wanda tensed briefly, reminding herself that they were meant to think Norman's deformities were stage makeup.

"The eye even blinks, Rhonda," the boy said. "That's astounding!"

"Thank you," Norman said softly.

The girl put her hand over her heart. "Oh... he even sounds right..."

"Sounds?" Wanda asked, confused.

"The Beast! He looks monstrous but he's sweet and gentle... that's why Belle falls in love with him!"

"Don't get her started!" the boy laughed. "That is her all time favorite. She saw it ten times when they played it at the theater down the street."

"It was a huge help with French class," she chuckled.

To Wanda's utter shock, Norman took the girl's hand and murmured, "Je suis bien contente de votre bon cœur, la Belle."

The girl gasped and blushed. Norman kissed her hand lightly and took Wanda's arm once more.

"Bonsoir," he murmured as they turned to enter the park.

"Bonsoir..." the girl said faintly.

Wanda could hear the boy laughing and demanding to know what Norman had said. She wondered herself.

But before she could ask, Norman said, "I remembered a line from the film."

Verbatim, she was sure. He was full of surprises, though she was no longer surprised by his intelligence.

"Oh! So you _don't_ speak French?"

"No. I do."

"Oh, my! How did I never know this, Norman?"

"It's never really been much use here. Well, until Armand started coming to visit. But since I didn't really run across him until a few weeks ago, I haven't had the chance to use it."

"Oh... was it awkward to speak to him? He's in the Cavalcadium so..."

"That was why I went out of my way to steer clear, yes. But he's a very forgiving sort of gentleman. He understands how people can be. He's really been through a lot."

Wanda smiled. Trust Norman not to think of himself as the only one with problems. She gave his arm an affectionate squeeze and felt him shiver.

"Sorry... did I squeeze too hard?"

"No... I just wasn't expecting it."

"Oh, Norman. We really don't give you enough hugs, do we?"

"Lily does. Davy used to, but you know little boys. He's got to be tough, he thinks. I suppose all little boys pass through that. I don't recall Peter being very fond of hugs."

"He is, the poor dear... he just doesn't know how to say so! He lets Marie and Lily and me hug him, but he acts as though he doesn't like it. Yet he never asks us not to!" she laughed.

They stopped as they neared the main part of the festival. Colored lights hung all around the field and fountains. Booths of delicious smelling foods were everywhere, and there were people dancing to lively mariachi music in an open courtyard beyond. Further on there were games for children and laughter and playful screams and monster noises could be heard all around the park.

"Well, are you ready to really put that costume to the test?" she asked.

"I am. I think."

"I'm here, Norman. You can do this."

"I know, but... Wanda, I have found that it's easier to do something difficult if you promise yourself a treat."

Wanda laughed, delighted. How adorable!

"And what treat have you promised yourself, Norman? There's certainly plenty to choose from!"

"Well, that's the trouble..." he murmured, turning to her. "I haven't yet, because I had to make sure it was something I could have first."

"Very sensible," she said primly. "And is it here, then?"

"It is," he murmured. "But... now I have to ask _you,_ because it's something only you can give me."

Her face grew hot. What on Earth was he going to ask for?

"Could I... possibly have a dance, Wanda? As my treat?"

"Oh..." she breathed.

What had she been expecting? These costumes were going to her head!

"Of course, Norman! Oh, I haven't danced in ages! Oh... but, can you?"

"I can, actually. I'm considered to be a rather good dancer. Well... I was. You can imagine how rusty I am by now."

"Good. Then I won't feel so clumsy myself," she chortled, taking his arm once more. "Shall we?"

"Now?"

"Dessert may have to wait until after dinner when you're a child, but we can have it now. Besides, neither of us has danced in ages so it sounds as though the reward may also be a punishment."

He chuckled. They walked through the festival, receiving a few startled looks that always turned to admiration, and waited until the band played something slow. Neither was confident enough to try anything fast just yet.

Norman led her into the open courtyard, and took her cautiously in his arms. His awkward lobster fingers rested loosely in her hand at first. Wanda gently squeezed his hand and he smiled and tightened his grip. He slowly led her around the courtyard at first, moving a bit faster once they both felt a little more confident, and she was pleased to find that he was a lovely dancer.

"There we go! Is this hard for you?" she asked. "Since you're left-handed, I mean?"

"Not at all. It was a struggle once but I worked to correct it. They even tried to teach me to write with my right hand as a child, but I pretended to be too stupid to do it and they gave me up as a lost cause."

"Oh, that's awful!" she gasped.

He chuckled. "It sounds that way, but it's one of the few times I managed to have my way. I just had to trick them into it. That was how I learned to do things. I was afraid to stand up to anyone and so I learned to sneak. I suppose if I was being less than generous I could say they were a bad influence on me."

"Why not say it?" she asked darkly.

"Oh... I don't think it's right. Ignatius is the only one who... well..."

She said nothing. He hadn't mentioned his brother since the execution, and they were having such a lovely evening. Now was not the time to stir up the memories.

"Anyway," he continued, "they made sure I was fed and clothed and housed and educated. People then thought it was bad to write left-handed, and they still do some places. It certainly is an inconvenience sometimes. Especially now."

He wiggled his fingers in hers.

"It certainly would help if I had gone ahead and learned to write right-handed. If I had known then what I know now, well... I'd have changed a lot more than which hand I wrote with! But I can't go on my whole life putting responsibility on others. Sometimes things just happen. I made my own choices."

Wanda gazed up at him in wonder. The more she knew of Norman, the better she liked him. He had such character, such gentility. Sometimes she wondered how he could have ever been involved in... well, best not to dwell on it.

"You're a wonderful dancer," he said. "Are you sure you haven't danced in years?"

"Absolutely. I guess it's like riding a bicycle. Although it helps to have a good partner! How did you get so good at dancing?"

"Practicing in front of a mirror! And I took a couple of college classes. I needed a certain number of elective courses and I thought social dance would make me more popular." He chortled. "It didn't. When I could get a partner, though, it was good to know what I was doing, and while I was in the class, at least, girls who knew me from the lessons would find me at the college dances. You'd be surprised how many young men just couldn't dance properly and the girls knew anyone enrolled in their dance class could, so at least it did lead to some fun evenings."

"Oh, that's good! I guess sometimes you have to take what you can get."

She bit her lip. That sounded... not very nice. She wasn't sure how, exactly. It just seemed kind of insensitive, and pessimistic.

But as usual, Norman humbly took no offense.

"Good point, my dear. Appreciate what you have in life instead of envying what you don't."

She hadn't said that at all. But it was such a lovely view of it.

They danced just the slow dances the rest of the evening, not because neither knew a faster set of steps but because neither was very familiar with the kind of dancing that went with the lively Mexican music. During those songs, they watched the games, enjoyed street performers, and tried the food. There were games adults could play as well, and neither did very well at them. But they didn't mind. It was good to be out, good to enjoy the festivity.

And yet, as the evening wore on, Wanda realized she had grown accustomed to the quiet and solitude of the Manor. It had been thrilling at first but she was feeling more and more uneasy with so many people jostling her from every side. Focusing on Norman solely helped a little, but after a couple of hours she felt at her wits' end.

"Norman," she murmured as they danced once more, "I hate to suggest this..."

"But you'd like to go home?"

"How did you know?" she asked.

"It's as plain as day, my dear. And I feel the same. It's been lovely and I couldn't bring myself to ask to go back after you and Marie so kindly made these costumes, but I'm afraid I've grown accustomed to a quiet life."

Wanda sighed with relief. "Then after this dance, let's go back. We've made plenty of memories, and possibly we can do this every year? I think I could handle it once a year!"

He chortled. "I'd be honored."

 

They walked into the Manor and heard the sounds of domestic chaos in the distance. It sounded as though Marie and The Spine were trying, with help from Rabbit, to get three children bathed and into bed... and the kids had had just a little too much candy to make it easy.

"I suppose I should help, but honestly... I'd rather just lay low," Wanda said softly. "My feet ache!"

"Then let's go to my room for a cup of coffee," Norman offered. "Before we're spotted."

"That sounds perfect," she murmured. Norman had a small hot plate in his room now so that he could be a bit more independent.

They went there by another hallway. Norman prepared two little cups of coffee while Wanda sat in his plush chair, resting her sore feet on the ottoman. She sighed luxuriously.

"That's better," she breathed, accepting the cup he gave her.

Norman sat in the desk chair and sipped his.

"Oh... do you want this one?" she asked, moving as if to rise.

"No, please... rest your feet. I wouldn't feel at ease if you were on the less comfortable seat. And it's just for a little while, hm? As much as I've enjoyed the evening, I'm as weary as you."

"I am. I could just sleep right here..."

She blushed. He blinked in bewilderment over his coffee cup. It had been a charming evening and he'd allowed himself to walk in the fantasy of it, but now... surely he was letting his imagination get the better of him. Surely she had only meant she could fall asleep in the chair and not his... no, it couldn't be.

_But then... why is she blushing?_

"Then once the coffee is finished, you must go to bed," he told her nervously. "The chair seems comfortable but I've fallen asleep in it and it's not as comfortable after a few hours tipped sideways."

She giggled wearily and tipped up the small coffee cup, draining it. "There," she said, setting it on the saucer. "All done."

"Oh," he gasped. "That was quicker than I expected."

"Well, we're both tired," she yawned. "We should be getting to bed."

And there was the blush again. He felt a similar one burning in his own face. He supposed she was just blushing because it had kind of sounded like she was suggesting... _No. Don't dirty it, Norman..._

He chuckled stiffly. "Of course."

Norman rose and held out his hand to her. She took it and allowed him to help her to her feet. She was lovely in that dress, and he found himself thinking back to the story behind the costumes. The Beast, sitting with Beauty at dinner every night, afterward always asking the same question.

_Beauty... do you love me...? Will you marry me?_

Oh... Norman felt as if he'd been given an electric shock, as if a bright light was suddenly shining in his eyes.

"Wanda..." he murmured as she turned to go.

She looked at him with wide eyes. "What is it, Norman?" she breathed.

And there was the light. It was coming from her.

"I wonder... if you would..."

He couldn't do it. Couldn't say it, couldn't risk telling her...

"...Help me off with my jacket," he finished lamely. "It's rather complicated for me. The Spine helped me put it on but I hate to trouble him..."

She giggled, a tad hysterically. "Of course!"

Wanda began to open the complex array of buttons she and Marie had painstakingly sewn into the coat. Norman waited patiently. She finished the buttons and opened the jacket, easing it toward his shoulders.

She looked up and their eyes met. His breath caught in his throat... she was a bit closer now than when they'd danced. She'd had to try the jacket on him before, but Marie had been helping then and it hadn't felt like this... like she was undressing him in his room.

Though, technically she was.

He rotated obligingly as she tugged off each sleeve. As he turned back toward her, he saw her looking at his body and wondered what she saw. She had once said he didn't look all that deformed. That said, though he had tried to keep fit, he didn't suppose she was admiring his winning physique. Not considering the complete package...

He stood facing her at last, his heart thundering in his chest. "I, uh... I hate to ask it, but the shirt buttons are also fairly challenging," he murmured. "If you could..."

"Of course, Norman."

"I really only need the top two opened.. and the sleeves..." he faltered.

She put down the jacket and opened the buttons he'd asked for, then started to open the rest. Was she...? No... she was probably only trying to help. He hastily caught her two dainty hands with his one good one and she startled.

"No!" he gasped. "Please... it's easier to put them back on if you only open two..."

"Oh, I'm sorry..." she whispered.

"No..." he breathed, gazing into her eyes. "You're very kind, my dear..." 

"But I've been opening the buttons every time I do the laundry. You should have said..."

"I know you were only trying to be helpful."

She hadn't pulled her hands away. They stood for a moment, looking at each other. He started to bring his left hand up to join the right.

And caught a glimpse of his clawed fingers out of the corner of his eye. He released her hands.

_It's an illusion, Norman,_ a too-familiar voice said in his head. _It's the magic of the evening. She doesn't, couldn't care for someone like you..._

"Thank you again. I can finish undressing. Goodnight," he said shortly, turning away.

"Oh... goodnight..." she whispered thickly. "It was a lovely evening."

"It was," he said, looking at her again. Did she have tears in her eyes? "Wanda, it was the loveliest evening I can remember."

Wanda smiled and strolled from the room. Norman gazed after her, feeling as if she was pulling his heart along behind her.

It had been coming on for a few years. He saw it now. But it wasn't until tonight that he fully understood how much he loved her, and how futile it was to hope she would ever love him.

_Don't go, sweet Wanda. Stay, open every button, tell me you could love a beast such as me..._

He sighed roughly, and shut the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Norman looks pretty haggard in the comic, but I figure at this point he was actually physically pretty nice looking if you didn't notice the damaged hand and his features. Then as he ages his hair falls out and the ridge in his back grows worse.
> 
> I mention the lesser robots in here because I realized I'd put them in the first chapter of Life with Marie and never explained where they went. Honestly I dunno what I had in mind for them. So here's the little sad notion that they were smaller bots that Col. Walter made that had no significant purpose except maybe basic lab work, like walking toolboxes and such, that had just enough sentience to enjoy chilling with The Jon and watching Fantasia or Dumbo. And that they each eventually broke down and no one quite had the skill to fix them at the time. Maybe Peter VI can find some and do repairs, if I remember to write it. If anyone can fix them, it's him. ;)
> 
> Although I once also called Michael Reed a robot mechanic and I have yet to explain that, either. Could be fun. He's one in other fics, so maybe...


	7. Spring Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda realizes something important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The slow burn is just about a roaring flame.
> 
> I think at this point I'll just post them as I get them edited.

It had been a truly magical evening. Wanda went about in a bit of a daze during the weeks after. The park, the festival, the dancing... and that last few minutes in his room. She wasn't sure what to think. It did seem as though she had hurt his feelings somehow...

But Norman did not stay tucked in his room as she would have expected after a hurt. If anything, he was out of it more than ever, eating meals with the family, working with his roses, reading in the library. Every time he saw Wanda, he had a kind word or greeting for her. When he was feeling particularly bright and cheerful, he would quote samples of poetry about gardens to her. Some even hinted that he might have been calling her pretty, if she chose to take them that way.

Wanda found she wanted to take them that way. She'd never known a man who communicated through poetry and she rather liked it.

 

A month later, everything had changed. Romance was the furthest thing from her mind.

Wanda sat, wearing black, staring out the window. California didn't have winters and it was summer anyway, but she felt everything was dead.

At least, her little brother was. Her tall, strong, brave little brother. Gone. Not even a body. They'd lost contact with his ship and still hadn't figured out what had happened.

She had fainted when they got the news. Fainted dead away. Norman had been with her and she'd so been looking forward to it, sitting with him and the others, hearing about Peter's flight. She'd had the chance to go to the launch site, but there was no way Norman could go and it seemed insensitive to take everyone and leave him behind, so she had made excuses to stay. 

And then... something had gone wrong.

The next few days passed in a blur. She had managed to have a brief talk with Peter's girlfriend today and it had drained away everything she had left. The girl had gone and Wanda had a feeling she wouldn't be back, even though she had been assured she would always be welcome in Walter Manor.

Wanda was as low as she had been in a long time. What hope was there for anyone? Peter was planning to propose to the girl when he got back. Now...

She gulped and blinked at a bird as it hopped around the yard.

_Everyone dies. Everyone goes away..._

 

Norman, aching, stood holding a single pink rose, debating how to approach her. She had been busy being the next of kin ever since Peter had been lost. He'd hoped she would want to come and dine with him one evening, as she had when he was the one suffering. But she hadn't been at dinner at all, even with the family, and Norman had struggled since then with the best course of action to take.

But he couldn't stay away for long. She was his dearest friend.

_Dearest friend? Are you mad? She doesn't want to see you. You only remind her of what she's lost, and how. If you walk into that room..._

Norman tensed. There it was again. He second-guessed so many things because of that inner monologue of his. Maybe it was some curse from Ignatius, maybe it was just his influence. Or maybe Norman was just plain insecure. Whatever it was, he was sick to death of it! That voice would have him leave Wanda alone in that room because she wouldn't let anyone approach her.

It wouldn't do. He loved her company when times were good and bad, and they were worse now than they had been in a long time. He knew she was trying to shoulder it alone. But he'd spent too many years standing by and letting people do as they pleased. He couldn't sit back and let Wanda wither away like this, refusing to burden others with her suffering. He knew what it was like, and he loved her far too much to leave her to sink into that Hell. He would pull her out even if it killed him.

_I'm going in there,_ he thought. _I don't care if she screams at me. I have to try._

With fresh resolve, he summoned his courage and rapped at the door frame. She turned suddenly as though startled. He wasn't surprised to see the tears.

"Wanda..." he murmured. "May I join you?"

She opened her mouth as if to speak but all that came out was a sob. He didn't know whether she was crying because she'd seen him or crying because she felt she could cry around him. There was only one way to find out.

Norman hurried into the room, laying the rose aside, and sat beside her on the sofa. Wanda put her hands over her face and Norman took a gamble and hesitantly put his arms around her. To his deep relief, she sank against his shoulder, trembling with misery. He felt a terrible joy as he held her; pain at her suffering, joy that she allowed him to hold her so closely and comfort her when she was hurting.

"He was so young... he had so much left to do..." she hiccuped, "and... he was all... all I had left of my family except for little Peter..."

Wanda looked up suddenly, gasping, "Oh! Oh, Norman... I didn't mean..."

"No... it's..." he began.

But she wasn't hearing. She tried to pull away, but Norman didn't let go. Now that he knew she would let him in, he was more sure of his instincts.

"Wanda! Wanda, it's alright! I know what you're thinking," he whispered, "but don't. Don't feel that you need to explain, my dear. Haven't you told me again and again that I am forgiven? If you want me to go, I will. But I think that you need someone to keep you company right now and I hope you'll allow me the honor. If not, feel free to tell me. I won't be hurt.

"You sat up with me when I was the one mourning... even when it was for a brother who had done both of us wrong. I... want to return that favor... not to clear a debt, but because... well, because you're my friend."

"Oh!" she gasped, her tears starting afresh. "Oh, Norman..."

But she couldn't say any more. She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and sobbed against him. He stroked her back and held her. Just held her.

 

Wanda woke the next morning in her bed. She sat up, looking around. But she was alone.

On her bedside table, a pink rose sat in a glass of water. Beneath it was a note.

"I asked The Jon to carry you to bed. I'll see you tomorrow at dinner, if you like. Same time and place. If you aren't up to it, I understand."

Wanda sighed and smiled, just a little. It was the one thing she thought she was up to.

 

Time passed and hearts healed. The robots sang on television and things seemed to be looking up. The family went on as families do. Norman and Wanda went each year to the park Halloween festival. Peter V called it a date, always with a wink. She could have spanked that boy...

But wasn't it just typical? A woman just couldn't have a male friend without people getting notions.

She found Norman reading an old book one day about the meanings of flowers. He offered to let her read it next. She took it with a smile and put it next to her bed.

The following day, she met Norman as he was coming inside from the garden. He was carrying a bundle of cut roses. He saw her and beamed.

"Wanda! I've been pruning the roses and I couldn't bear to toss away all the good flowers..."

"Pruning?" she gasped. "This close to summer?"

"Ideally you wait until they go dormant in the winter, of course," he explained. "But there's the problem."

She laughed. "Of course. We don't have one! Well, what will you do with them?"

"I usually put them in vases around the house, but since I ran into you first, you may have the first pick of them."

"Oh... my goodness... How can I choose?" she breathed. "How many are there to begin with?"

"Thirteen, here. Don't think that's bad luck, though. It's just a baker's dozen. There's nothing troubling about a baker's dozen."

She smiled. "I'm not superstitious, Norman!"

"Naturally. You're far too bright for such things."

She blushed and looked at the roses once more. "I'd choose one of each color but then I'd be taking nearly half..."

"I could give you all of them! I have more out in a bucket waiting to be brought in. If you're still reluctant, I could keep two, one for Marie and one for Lily, and then you'd have eleven. But if you want to be more generous, then just take six... or three."

"Just three, I think. And could you choose? They're all so charming..."

Was he turning pink? Maybe he'd just been out in the sun a little too long.

"Alright," he breathed. He held out a pale lavender rose and she gasped. "How unusual!"

"A hybrid I made. I think it came out rather well."

She accepted and sniffed it, smiling. He was looking back with an odd expression.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Hm? Oh, no... I was just... thinking about the next one." He looked down and pulled out another. "Red."

Her heart gave a thump. It was absolutely perfect and he held it out with such a serious expression. She took it and inhaled its scent.

"How wonderful..." she breathed.

He seemed... disappointed? His smile had faded a little... He sighed and looked down at the roses once more.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "Here... I think this is the nicest one of all."

"Oh my, that's a peculiar color..."

"Oh, don't you like blue?"

"Oh, no... not that kind of peculiar! I've just never seen such blue roses!"

"It's still technically violet, but these were some of the most blue among them," he murmured. "Blue is a very difficult color to achieve. Some even think it's unattainable."

Again, there was a note of significance, and at last it struck her with the force of a sledgehammer that Norman had been reading the book on flower meanings the day before, and had recommended it to her! She hadn't so much as cracked it yet but... here he was with flowers and was being uncommonly fussy about them, even for him. Could it be a coincidence, or... what if there was some significance to these choices?

Her heart pounded as she absentmindedly sniffed the blue rose. It was the best one yet.

"Well..." he said softly, "I had better see to the rest of them."

"Of course," she said breathlessly. "Thank you so much, Norman."

"You're very welcome, my dear! The Beast grudges theft of his roses but may freely give them at his leisure!" he chortled.

Wanda giggled as he strolled away. As soon as he rounded the corner, she bolted for her room. Halfway there, she met Lily, who looked up at her with her lip sticking out.

"Oh!" Lily squeaked. "Norman already gave you some?"

"What? Oh, yes, he said..."

"Good! I wanted some but he said he was gonna let someone else get first pick this time an' I was mad but now I can go get some. Bye!"

The child bolted before Wanda could ask for confirmation. Norman had said he'd run into Wanda first...

She ran the rest of the way to her room, snatching up the old book as soon as she got there.

"Roses..." she whispered, flipping through the pages. "Where... oh! Here..."

She devoured the portion about the significance of colors and felt a lump in her throat.

"Lavender... enchantment... love at first sight. Oh, my. Red... I hardly need a book to explain red..."

She read the passage anyway. "Love, beauty, courage, passion, respect... is there anything it _doesn't_ mean? Ugh. At least it's all pleasant. Now blue... surely that's not in here."

But it was. "Elusive... the desire for the unattainable. 'I can't have you but I can't stop thinking about you.'"

She gasped and almost closed the book. The next paragraph spoke about what numbers of roses meant and she skimmed it, trembling.

Each of the numbers he'd offered her had significance. Thirteen was a secret admirer. Eleven meant you were loved. Six meant you needed love. But she had chosen three... which he had haltingly suggested last. Which had caused him to look positively startled. Which had led to him giving her three roses, indicating enchantment, love, and longing for the unattainable.

And which, by their number, meant, "I love you."

Wanda sat staring ahead. Oops. That was... awfully personal...

Did he think she'd read the book? Did he think she loved him? What could she do if he did? What if he was trying to tell her something and thought she had reciprocated? Would he be heartbroken when he found out it was a mistake? Or was she reading too much into it? Maybe he didn't care about her that way at all and she was worrying over nothing!

That must be it. Norman was just sharing some gardening trivia. Of course. No sense making it more than it was. Yes. He simply was sharing some information.

He didn't love her at all.

She burst into tears.

No! What a dreadful notion! He just had to love her! Because... she loved him so much! She just didn't know what to do about it...

Wanda sat, crying softly. How long had she loved Norman? All those dinners together, all those conversations, days in the garden, and the day he had come to hold her while she cried over Peter. Her heart still ached for her brother, but she shivered with delight at the memory of being held in Norman's gentle arms.

She couldn't imagine life without him now. But suppose he felt too guilty to consider it? Suppose she was right and he was just sharing the bounty of his lovely garden and wasn't interested in romance? It hurt to consider it, and for some time she stayed in her room, too heartsick to stop crying for long enough to leave it without raising questions.

But Wanda wasn't one to pine away over love, especially considering she had no rivals to speak of and was at the very least his best friend. That was nothing to sneeze at. There were certainly no rivals in the field.

She looked at her lovely roses, sighed, sniffled, and found a handkerchief in her bedside drawer.

Well, she could put her charming gifts into a vase and start dinner. She would figure something out eventually. Meanwhile, Norman was here and so was she. She saw him every day, and even if he wasn't in love with her... she choked back a sob... then he did care for her company above all others and that was something.

He might love her. She didn't know. But she wouldn't risk their friendship by asking. Even if they spent their whole lives just sipping coffee in the evenings, they would be spending it together. And if he had meant to express affection through roses, he was bright enough to guess that it may have missed the mark and find another way to show his feelings.

She hoped. She had waited this long. She could go on waiting.


	8. Message Received

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hell freezes over and pigs fly and a man and a woman finally tell the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole fic was meant to be about the journey, but I'll toss in a couple more chapters to get them settled.

February 1966:

 

Wanda flipped up the calendar and looked at it gloomily.

Things had been going so well for a little while. She'd begun to feel a little more hope. She'd taken comfort in the family that still surrounded her, especially in Norman, though they remained only friends. Young Peter V had elected to start attending public school, but she still had Lily in the classroom, so she also had a sense of purpose, of feeling needed.

Then Honeybee had died. And hard on the heels of that, her uncles had gone to war.

Their family just couldn't seem to catch a break.

Marie walked by, drying a bowl, looked at the calendar, and sighed.

"I know, sweetie," Wanda murmured, feeling a pang of guilt at her moment of self-pity. Marie usually spent Valentine's Day with her husband. This would be their first apart since he left to get his upgrades.

"Yeah. Gonna be a lonely Valentine's. But what about you? You doing anything special?" Marie asked.

"What? Who would I do anything special with?" Wanda asked in a rather squeaky voice.

"Well, I know there was a man at the Cavalcadium who has taken an interest..."

"What?"

"Well... that's what Louise told me."

Damn Louise anyway! Ever since she met Armand she'd taken matchmaking on as a new hobby! It was just typical.

"There was a man who offered to see me to my car and opened the door for me a few times. That's all."

"Oh, I thought..."

"Thought what?"

"That he had asked you out on a date," Marie said sheepishly.

"Oh."

He had, actually. She had turned him down. And she had thought no one heard!

"So he didn't, then..."

"We have too many gossips in this family," Wanda gritted.

"Well, I'm sorry, but we worry about you!" Marie said, at last growing irritated. "I mean, you moon around here acting like you're happy with your lab experiments and won't just get on with it!"

"With what?" Wanda demanded.

Marie sighed roughly. "I could say but then you'd just deny it. Or I could be wrong and you really are happy doing science without a man."

Wanda's face burned. "It's not unheard of," she said firmly. "Speaking of which, I think I left something burning in one of the labs so if you'll excuse me..."

"Wanda..." Marie said, her tone softened. "I'm sorry, alright? We're trying to help..."

"I know," Wanda muttered, walking out of the kitchen.

Marie knew far too much without having been told by Wanda. Well, so what? The guy at the Cavalcadium was working his way around all the women there, which fact Louise either hadn't noticed or hadn't cared about. Not that Wanda had been interested in him anyway.

And meanwhile Norman, despite Marie's hints, certainly hadn't made any mention of being attracted to her! Although that may have been because she was in mourning almost non-stop since he'd moved in, or so it felt. He would never have presumed while she was so vulnerable. Although... she wasn't in mourning now.

Ever since he had given her those three special roses (which she had secretly dried and kept) she had never doubted her own feelings. She loved him. If he had just once given her enough reason to think he loved her in return, she would have told him so.

If she tried, though... if she was wrong... a man like Norman would consider unkind to toy with her affections. It would be the end of eating together, sitting together, being together. And she just couldn't stand the thought of ending what they already had, even on the chance of gaining more. So she would be content as she was. Although... Norman had started eating all his meals in the main dining room, lately. She couldn't help wondering if he had noticed she was more attentive and was trying to avoid being alone with her.

Wanda had reached lab three. She sat on a stool and sighed.

Christmas had passed without much celebration and now it looked as though Valentine's Day was going to be a bust as well. She gave up on work and went to her room to sulk.

But as she settled onto her bed, she noticed a dusty book still sitting on the lower shelf of her bedside table. Her heart gave a guilty thump. She'd never returned the book he'd given her! Of course, it wasn't his, as such; he'd pulled it from the library in the house. But it was so much his sort of thing.

She looked at it for a moment and went to find him. It took a bit of searching, however. He wasn't in any of his usual favorite spots so she went to his room and knocked. No answer. She jiggled the doorknob. Locked.

He wasn't usually such a late riser so she assumed she had just missed him somewhere and turned to leave, only to see him just coming around the corner.

"Hello!" she called pleasantly.

He startled and nearly dropped the paper he was carrying. "Oh! Hello, my dear!"

"What lovely red paper! Are you making Valentines?" she asked.

He blinked blankly. Surely he knew Valentine's day was coming up...

"Oh! No... no... I mean yes... I mean... this is for the children. To make Valentines. For school. I mean, Davy will. The others will just... make them for fun."

"Ah..." she murmured, bewildered. "Um... I forgot to return this..."

He reached her at last and looked down. "Oh! That belongs in the library, my dear."

"I thought so, but just in case I brought it to you," she murmured. "I, um... really enjoyed it."

He beamed. "It's fascinating, isn't it?"

Not as much as he thought it was! But his enthusiasm was adorable.

"What was your favorite?" he asked.

"Favorite?"

"Yes. Which section did you like best?"

"Oh! Well... the roses," she replied hastily, feeling like a child who hadn't done her homework.

"Ah! They do have the most elaborate history, don't they?"

She nodded and they stood awkwardly for a moment.

"Well," he said. "I do need to get these finished..."

"Finished? I thought they were for the children..."

He stared at her blankly. 

"Weren't they?" she asked.

He relaxed at last and murmured, "Alright. I'm making them little Valentines as a surprise. Please don't tell..."

"Of course not! How sweet. Did you want some help?"

"What? Oh! No... no, too many people disappearing at once might alert them to the surprise."

"Ah, yes. Very clever."

Did he mean that? Or was there a chance that he was working on something for her, too? Still, it might just be out of friendship. They certainly had become very good friends. Or he really was trying to avoid being alone with her...

She stepped aside to let him through, brooding. If there was even a chance...

"Norman!" she said quickly as he unlocked his door.

He looked up. "Hm?"

"The book... the, uh... the roses. I just wanted to say... I especially liked the part about the colors, and the numbers of roses. What they meant."

They stared at each other. Maybe he would remember those three she had asked for last year. Maybe he would understand...

He smiled. "So did I," he said softly. "It was decidedly the most meaningful portion of the book. Well... have a nice morning..."

"You, too," she said as he entered his room.

Wanda let out an angry sigh once the door had closed. Was there no end to the tightrope walking ambivalence of the man? She could have absolutely screamed!

Instead, she clutched the book to her chest and went to her room to read.

 

Norman leaned against the closed door, trembling. He should have had more courage. He should have just told her, damn the consequences, rather than go on burning with longing while calmly sipping coffee and discussing trivial matters. At least, they seemed trivial sometimes, when all he really wanted was to tell her he loved her.

It hadn't faded in the years since he first realized it. Instead it had gone from a flame to a forest fire inside him from the many dinners and evenings spent together, every Halloween spent dancing and enjoying the night air. How he had kept it to himself he couldn't explain. He was just so afraid to destroy their friendship!

Or had been. Because recently he had overheard Marie gossiping with her sister about a man in the Cavalcadium, and his attentions toward Wanda. He wasn't surprised. Surely many men had taken an interest over the years.

And Norman had decided he didn't dare wait anymore. He didn't know whether she would be going on a date with this man on Valentine's Day, as Louise hinted. He didn't know whether he could even begin to compete with a man whose eyes both blinked in the same direction, whose smile wasn't a thing of horror, who had two good hands...

But if there was a chance, he'd have to work quickly. Even if she was furious or disgusted at the suggestion that she might love a man like him, at least he'd have the chance to tell her how much he cared before she found someone else.

He just needed to find the courage to follow through.

 

Wanda remained in suspense for the next two weeks. Norman ate with the family and bustled off to his room. She had made the cold decision to remain aloof and uninterested no matter how curious she was. Maybe it _was_ a surprise for the kids. He had his reasons. She could cope.

And then it was February 14th.

She woke early, restless, and slipped down to the kitchen for some coffee. She supposed she'd be spending the evening keeping Marie distracted. That would be a good plan, just to watch movies with Marie and the family so no one had to be alone. Any _other_ year, it would have sounded like a lovely evening.

She sipped her coffee and sulked. Here she was, in love, and with a man who was very much alive and present and warm and wonderful, and she was still spending Valentine's with children.

When she returned to her room, though, she knew very quickly that this year would not be typical after all. There were little paper hearts all over the hallway! Further down, she could see things in front of each bedroom door, children's and adults' alike. She'd certainly known he was planning something. But how sweet to leave the surprises to welcome them first thing in the morning!

She tiptoed delightedly among the hearts. They were scattered by the handful past all the bedrooms. The kids' rooms each had a little paper basket with candies in them. Marie's room had a bouquet of yellow roses; her favorite. There was a note attached and Wanda read it shamelessly.

"My darling," it read, in The Spine's neat hand, "I miss you every day. I've asked Norman to give you these since I can't be there to do it myself. I love you and I'll be home as soon as I can."

Wanda's eyes prickled with tears. Those idiots! She thought Norman had done this alone, but The Spine was clearly involved, and they must have been conspiring for months to pull this off! Norman only had a couple of yellow rose bushes and he would have had to make sure each was in bloom at the right time. She supposed the little baskets were part of the same conspiracy. Bless their sweet hearts for this! Marie would cry all day but it would be for the _right_ reasons. No wonder he'd been so secretive.

It was as Wanda straightened up that she looked down the hallway and saw what was in front of _her_ door. Her breath caught in her throat and she hurried closer to confirm it.

Three red roses.

For just a moment, she couldn't breathe. She hurried down the hall, picked them up and read the little note attached, shaking with the fear that it was a kind gesture from her uncles instead of what she hoped.

The note was in Norman's hand. She gulped and read it.

"My dear Wanda..."

Her heart gave a painful thump.

"I hope you will accept these as a token of my affection. We have become great friends against all expectation and I hope you have come to value our friendship the same way I have. I will be in the rose garden all day and I wish to invite you to join me there. I can't think of a lovelier way to spend this day than among the roses with you, my dear friend. Yours, Norman."

Wanda felt that scream rising again. How could a man dance so perilously close to a declaration of love without ever actually arriving? Every statement could be taken as either the words of friendship or a reserved romantic sentiment!

She couldn't take it anymore. By the end of this day, either they would be lovers or very awkward friends. She'd tried to be patient, but how could she when he kept flirting with the idea of love?

"Dammit, I want him to flirt with _me!"_ she swore under her breath.

She glanced at her room. She should put on her gardening clothes... No, she thought, there was no time to change. This had to be settled now. She would tell him how she felt, and he would probably try to let her down gently, and everything would be ruined. But she had made up her mind.

Wanda tightened the belt on her bathrobe and, clutching her roses carefully in one hand, ran for the garden, tossing confessions around in her head as she went and rejecting each one.

 

Norman sat on a bench among the roses, absently clutching a pair of pruning shears. He looked up sharply at the sound of feet on the gravel walk.

"Wanda!" he gasped, setting down the shears and rising hastily to greet her. "You're... still in your pajamas..."

She stood and stared at him and he shook with anxiety. She was carrying the roses. "Do you like them?" he asked softly.

Wanda looked at them and back at Norman, then held the bouquet out to him. He stared numbly at the flowers as he accepted them.

"So you _didn't_ like them..." he whispered, aching.

"What? No!" she cried. "I mean, yes! Yes, I _love_ them!"

"Then..."

There was a moment of awkward staring. She seemed to be grappling with a great internal struggle, and Norman was doing the same.

Should he say it? Did he dare?

He'd hoped the roses would say it for him, of course. He felt like a coward for it, but there was justification. Their circumstances made the whole thing rather absurd. Some people still considered him to be her husband's murderer, and here he was, in love with her. It seemed in bad taste to even consider embarking on a romantic relationship.

So his head told him. But his heart told him to stop wasting time. She was forty and he was pushing fifty. Maybe she still looked twenty-five, but he was ageing, albeit slowly due to his Blue Matter saturation. He tried to keep fit, but it didn't stop his hairline from creeping backward.

What was important, was that he loved her so deeply, and she was fond of him, at least as a friend. There were times he'd almost suspected it was more. They could be happy. He was sure of it.

But they stood in the rose garden in the cool of the hazy morning, just staring at each other.

Wanda broke the spell. To his astonishment, she stepped forward and embraced him. He patted her softly, keeping his hope in check. Could it be?

"Oh, Norman... Norman, sweetheart... You just _had_ to have meant something by giving me three red roses!" she gushed, her face pressed against his chest.

His heart hammered against his ribs. He wrapped his arms around her.

"But I don't care if you just gave them to me to be nice!" she continued. "I don't care because... because even if you don't love me... I love _you!!"_  

He was stunned. It took a moment to sink in as the shivers shot up and down his skin from her embrace.

She loved him!

"Wanda... my dear..." he gasped.

She burst into tears before he could think of what to say. How could she think for a moment that he didn't love her? But words seemed insufficient to express it now. Wanda, trembling in his arms, looked up, anxiously scanning his face, as though trying to read his expression.

Norman touched her cheek with his good hand and gave way at last. He leaned down and kissed her full on the mouth. She startled and he pulled away.

"Oh!" he gasped. "I shouldn't have done that..."

"Yes, you should!" she cried, pulling him back for another.

Delighted, Norman melted against her once more. Years of suppressed longing broke forth and it was some time before she rested her head once more against his chest, crying softly. He continued to place little kisses on her head and brow before settling with his face pressed against her hair.

"Wanda..." he breathed. "Of course I love you. But I never hoped that... that you would be able or even willing to love me."

"Oh, Norman... how could anyone not love you?"

There was only one answer to that. They kissed again as the wind blew rose petals across the garden.


	9. Betrothed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The awkward lessons of moving forward, and letting the family in on the secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Includes awkward discussion about family planning.

They decided to keep it as a nice guilty secret for a while. Wanda did write and let Rabbit know, hoping he wouldn't be too angry. The letter she got back was full of surprise, but no judgment. But future letters made no mention of it. That was more than she'd hoped for anyway.

Evening meals and coffee took on a whole new quality. They still had lovely chats, played chess, or read side by side. But very, very often, they did so sitting snuggled together in his soft chair or even embraced on his bed. Sometimes they giggled together about things that had gone on during the day, or about the many hints each hd given the other over the last few years that had gone unnoticed. And sometimes the conversation was about intimate, somewhat corny topics like how much they loved each other, or how their relationship should progress, and when. Wanda never would have let anyone else hear them speak to each other the way they did when they were alone. But she found now that she needed it. It had been so long since she'd had anyone she could allow to see her at her weakest and most vulnerable. But Norman, for a long time now, had become the safest person she knew. How had she gone on so long without this?

One evening, more than a year after that golden Valentine's Day, as they lay embraced against a pile of pillows, things became just a bit more serious.

"My love," he murmured, "I hope I'm not presuming too much, but I have something to ask you."

Wanda's breath caught in her throat and she felt chills all over. She could just feel what was coming.

"Yes, darling?" she breathed.

He kissed her fingertips, one by one, and slipped a small gold ring onto her left hand.

"Would you consider... well... marrying me?"

She gasped and stared at her hand. It was a simple but elegant ring, with a small pink stone. She twisted to look up at him.

"Yes, Norman..." she whispered. "Of course!"

They kissed and lay embraced for a long time, talking about plans for a change in living arrangements... still within the manor. But they both agreed to wait until the robots returned from the war. It would be challenging enough then.

The family was under a lot of strain. No one had heard from any of the robots in a couple of months and Dave was in full rebellious teenager mode. Qwerty, Rabbit's surprise daughter, was still afraid to speak to anyone older than Peter. Wanda and Norman were teaching Lily at home and Marie very much needed their help.

And then the telegram came. Marie fainted dead away when she heard the news and had to be taken to her bed. The doctor came and gave her something to make her sleep and Wanda did her best, with Norman at her side, to comfort the children. Lily was inconsolable, but Dave, to their surprise, rose to the occasion and comforted her the best he could. Marie rose after a few days, determined to keep going despite everything. She insisted her husband wasn't dead and wouldn't hear anything to the contrary. And no one had the heart to try and press the point.

They couldn't very well tell everyone about their engagement at a time like that, they both agreed. The family needed them. They didn't think it was right to shift the focus to them. Besides, it hurt Wanda, too, wondering what had happened to the three robotics uncles she'd had her whole life, and being with the others did help.

But it also meant a lot less time alone with Norman, and their secret didn't last. He, with help of Marie and a rolling cart, had started bringing her tea in the lab every Saturday, so that they could sneak a little more time together. But they had grown accustomed to a certain amount of snuggling and other physical expressions of love and, well... it really shouldn't have come as a surprise when one afternoon they were caught by Dave, kissing passionately over the remains of the tea.

The first hint of his presence was a skilfully executed wolf-whistle. They both startled violently and looked up in shock.

Dave applauded. "'Bout time!" he laughed.

"Oh, Dave!" Wanda scoffed, blushing.

"I'm serious! You two have been stealing glances for years! Lily and I had a bet going and time ran out on it because neither of you would make the first move. I should have made a new bet, might have gotten her allowance for a year."

"Don't you teach her to bet, Dave! You know better than to..."

Dave roared with laughter. She sighed and relaxed a little. The poor boy needed a laugh. She didn't care how tough he acted; Dave loved his family and his father was missing. He'd been strong for his mother but Wanda knew it hurt.

"I won't breathe a word, okay?" Dave said.

"No... go ahead," she murmured. Norman looked at her, surprised. "It's getting too hard to hide it. If that's alright, Norman?"

"Just the family, though," Norman agreed.

"Huh. Okay, if you want." He turned to go. "And don't get too frisky in here. The door doesn't lock."

He winked and strolled away. Wanda sighed, still blushing fiercely.

"The idea! We weren't going to..."

She stopped. If she blushed any harder, she might break a blood vessel. She wasn't going to bring up sex to complicate things still more! Neither had broached the subject since they had begun this secret romance. She wasn't even sure how to initiate it; Guy had always made his intentions clear and it had felt a bit of a chore after a couple of years. Sure, she sometimes felt a deep longing to get closer to him, but she'd felt that with Guy... and always been disappointed in the end.

She wasn't crazy about the idea of this relationship getting to the same place as that one. If Norman was content with things as they were now, then so was she. Sooner or later she'd have to face it. But not now.

"Well, he just needs to behave himself, that's all!" she said hastily. "I swear he's lost all his manners out there, working on that car nonstop!"

"He's the sort who copes by keeping busy."

"I suppose. Funny, both his parents are like that..."

"I'd almost say he was their son by birth from the way he behaves."

Wanda nibbled a cookie thoughtfully. She was wary of talking about sex, but a related matter did need to be addressed.

"Speaking of which... Norman... we really should discuss something."

"Hm?" 

"Well, yes. We've made all sorts of plans but never have really discussed how many children we want."

"Children? My dear, I'm fifty years old..."

"I'm not! And if my insides are as well preserved as my outsides, I can still have a baby."

Norman had gone pale.

"Norman? Oh... don't you want children, then?" she asked weakly.

She hadn't considered it, somehow. He was so fond of the children in the manor.

"It's not that... Wanda, sweet.... you do understand that I can't give you children. Don't you?" he asked softly.

Her heart gave a painful thump. How inconsiderate of her! 

"Oh... Norman, I hadn't thought... are you sterile, then?" she asked, blushing.

"No... well, I don't know that I am."

"What? Then why..."

"Wanda, my dear... suppose I'm not? What if we produce a child? My deformations aren't cosmetic. They aren't burns or scars or missing limbs. The evidence suggests I was changed on a fundamental level. Suppose... suppose my very genes have been altered? You could give birth to something like me, or worse!"

"Norman!" she scolded. "Do you really think I wouldn't love my children if they looked like you?"

"No, I think you _would_ love them, my dear. And that's why you should never have them. Because it has been difficult enough living this way myself. Seeing your own little children suffer this way is a fate I would never wish upon you."*

"Suffer?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes, my dear. I am happier than I ever could have dreamed, thanks to you. But I think you already understand what I mean."

She did. Norman's health varied due to his deformations. He was a veritable prisoner in the house... had he really wanted to go out. Fortunately, he didn't. But if they had a child like him... it wouldn't understand why it couldn't go out and play, why people stared... assuming it even survived!

Wanda didn't know what to say. Her throat ached with tears she didn't want to shed. She'd wanted children... not to the extent some women did, but she'd rather liked the idea of raising at least one. It made a person feel as though they'd done a little something to keep the world turning.

And she'd wanted to have one with Norman. She'd been too young with Guy to really think about it. Even at twenty-five it had felt too soon.

But with Norman... she was better able to grasp the meaningfulness of having a child together. They would share the responsibilities, guide and protect and teach. It didn't have to be theirs by birth, even, and she considered suggesting adoption. 

But she remembered what The Spine and Marie had gone through. They'd only been able to adopt with Peter III's help... not because The Spine wasn't human (certain documents and a lot of makeup had covered that little detail) but because The Spine didn't have a steady job. Had he been a man, being a musician would have been enough to threaten their chances. Seeing as how Norman didn't have a job at all, she could hardly hope that they would be allowed to adopt a child.

She realized how long she had been sitting in silence when Norman awkwardly rose and began to clean up the dishes.

"I'm sorry," he murmured as he worked, his eyes firmly on the cart. "I should have told you this before I asked you to marry me."

"Norman, no... that's hardly fair..."

"It is fair. I had thought that we were old enough that children were no longer part of the equation. Now I feel as though I misrepresented myself and secured a promise on a lie."

His sudden formality made her skin crawl. He was thinking of backing out!

"Norman!" she gasped, her voice thick with tears.

He looked at her at last and she could see him waver. He sat quickly beside her and put his arms around her. Wanda clung to him, shaking.

"Norman, please don't even think of it! I want to marry you!" she sobbed.

"Wanda... you'll never have a child of your own..."

"I don't care!"

He kissed her softly on the forehead. "Yes. You do."

She shook her head weakly and cried against his shoulder. "A little. Not enough to stop me..." she choked.

"And I want so desperately to believe you. But I hope you understand how much I care for your happiness when I say this... I cannot, will not father a child. I just don't dare. The Becile bloodline was never anything to brag about anyway. So... the right thing to do is to release you from our engagement..."

His voice cracked and she felt a stabbing pain in her chest. "No!" she wailed.

"Well... look, can you take a few days and sincerely consider what I've told you? Sincerely and without letting me influence you?"

"What?" she sniffled.

"Think about it. If you can honestly accept the life I offer you, without children of our own... Wanda, it would be my greatest happiness to marry you."

If he'd wanted to help her think about it in a detached and unbiased way, he'd failed. She felt decidedly influenced. But he wanted her to give it a few days, and she could certainly do so... though she couldn't help wishing she had taken Dave up on his offer to keep his silence.

"Alright, Norman," she said softly, fighting a terrible urge to call him every pet name she knew, to embrace him and kiss him and promise she didn't care a dime. 

Because he was right. She cared.

 

Wanda sat by the cemetery, staring at the stones. She'd seen Rabbit do this any number of times. It always seemed to help him think, he'd said. 

But Wanda stood here because it was the place she'd seen Norman the least. He had come out here for funerals only. Everywhere else on the grounds was saturated with memories of him.

She stared at her grandfather's grave and brooded. How could she possibly go back to Norman and say she didn't mind being childless the rest of her life? She accepted it as part of marrying him. Wasn't that enough?

And it was true. She'd thought it over for the past two days and truly accepted it. There were a lot of times in life that you had to give up something you wanted to get something you wanted more. She loved Norman and couldn't see life without him. Friendship had been enough for a while, but she'd had a generous helping of being his sweetheart, and she liked it. She didn't want to go back.

And someday, well... maybe he'd turn out to be better in bed than Guy. Assuming Guy was the problem and Wanda wasn't just frigid* or something... she'd worried about it at the time. But since then she had considered that maybe... maybe he just wasn't very good. Then again, Norman wasn't likely to be any better... from what he'd said, he hadn't exactly been a ladies' man.

Wanda sighed irritably. Why in the world was she brooding about sex? She needed to think of an answer he would accept or there was never going to be any sex! If she simply said she was resigned to his terms, he'd feel he was forcing her to sacrifice her happiness.

She heard footsteps ruffling through the grass. She glanced over and saw Peter walking into the cemetery.

"Hi, sweetheart," she sighed.

"What's up, Aunt Wanda?"

"Oh, nothing much."

"No... I mean, what's wrong? Why are you out here pulling a Rabbit? I figured you and Norman being engaged meant you'd, I dunno... be with him right now? Only he's in the library not reading a book."

"Not reading a book?"

"He's holding it but you can tell he isn't seeing it. It's like a security object." He sat beside her. "What's up?"

"Oh, sweetheart... it's really not a matter for children..."

Peter snorted with laughter. "Ah, yeah... in case you hadn't noticed, I don't really have that problem anymore."

"Problem? You don't know how good you had it."

"Yeah, I do. Did you two break up or something?"

"No, sweetheart..." she said, a tremor slipping into her voice.

"You sure? That wasn't very convincing."

"We... we had a discussion about some personal matters that we don't exactly see eye to eye about."

"Oh. Was it... y'know..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Was it sex?"

"Peter!"

He glanced toward the house. "Well, was it?"

"Of course not! I mean..." She sighed roughly. "He doesn't want children, alright?"

"Oh, is that all?"

"'Is that all?'" she echoed, astonished. "Isn't it enough?"

"What, you're okay with everything else but you don't want to marry him because he doesn't want kids?"

"I didn't say that! He doesn't _want_ me to marry _him_ because he's _afraid_ to have kids!"

"Weird."

"It's _not_ weird! He's being considerate! He doesn't want me to be unhappy if I have a deformed baby..."

She clapped her hand over her mouth. It sounded so callous to say it that way! 

"Well, I mean... that could happen. We don't really know what made him that way."

"But I'd love it anyway! You know that! He just knows what it's like to live that way so he won't even risk it! And there's not much chance anyone would let us adopt..."

"Yeah, one look at Norman and they'd throw you out."

"Peter! Really! That's just... ugh!"

"I thought that was what you meant..." Peter said blankly.

"No! I mean neither of us has a steady job!" she cried.

"Oh. Oh, yeah. Right. Plus he couldn't go to any school plays."

She opened her mouth to tell him to stop dwelling on Norman's deformities... and sighed. "Well, let's face it..."

"Alright, so he's made a good case. You love him and want to marry him anyway, right?"

"Yes! But he is so certain I'll be unhappy without children!"

"Oh, I dunno about that. I mean, yeah... but maybe he's afraid you'll hold it against him."

She wanted to argue but the truth of it struck her to the heart. "He does want me to be happy... but if he's also afraid I'll end up hating him for it..."

"Well, yeah, I mean, it'll be because of him, right? And he told me once that his family used to blame him for everything. And plus there's so much stuff you could blame him for and I bet he's afraid this is one too many."

"Oh... poor Norman..." she whispered.

"Anyway, it's not like you never had kids."

"What?" she gasped.

He grinned. "Well, yeah! You have me!"

She stared at him.

"And you're staring at me. I'm serious. You mothered the hell out of me."

"Language, Peter!"

He giggled. "Like that! Yeah, you're busy thinking about Norman and having actual babies, but I always felt like you were doing your best to make up for all the years I was in the orphanage. And I was way bigger when you got me, but you cried like I was a baby. It was nice. Y'know, having someone that happy to see me. Plus Norman may have taught me math but he also sat and talked to me about all kinds of things, helped me with projects... he even tried to play sports with me and Dave a few times but the sun always gets in that one eye, y'know...

"But yeah, I barely remember Dad and being here I was with family that remind me of him and had a couple of sets of parents instead of just one. And I really feel like I know how it feels to have a mom and dad. So maybe tell Norman that. I mean, you two pretty much raised me together, right? And I plan to live here with whoever I end up marrying someday, so you can be around my kids, too."

"That's ages off, I'm sure," she said uneasily. He was so young! "But... you're right. I don't know why I didn't think of that..."

He put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her. "Because you lose focus when you freak out, Aunt Wanda."

"Oh, stop, boy," she growled without venom, shoving him gently. "Do you know, I think I will tell him that, sweetheart. You're very right. You _have_ been like a son to us both."

She absently smoothed a lock of his hair away from his eyes. Peter laughed softly.

"Well, I recommend telling him now. He looked miserable."

 

Norman stared down at the book he had been attempting to read. Flower meanings. He wasn't sure why he had chosen it. It was just about the last book likely to help him keep his mind off of his worries.

She'd stayed away for the past couple of days. Pondering, he presumed, whether she meant to break the engagement. She'd seemed very sure she didn't want to do so, yet she was still thinking. Maybe it was just because he'd asked her to take a few days. He'd always sort of thought of "a few" as three or four.

Or maybe she was having a hard time accepting his terms. He shuddered. If she decided she couldn't live with it...

He closed the book, gulping in agony. He didn't want to be melodramatic about it. He was a grown man. If she didn't marry him, she might remain his friend. But if this was the one thing that she couldn't overlook about being with Norman, then someday she would find a man who _could_ give her children. And when she did, most likely she would leave, or bring him to live in the manor.

Either one would break his heart. Would he be able to bear it, or would Ignatius get his wish and see Norman join him in Hell?

Norman wiped his eyes. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he should marry her and provide her with the child she wanted. But he just as quickly pictured Wanda, holding a baby with one twisted eye and one clawed hand. No. The one thing worse than losing her was condemning her, and their child, to that.

Well... there was one thing worse than all of it: if she bore a child too deformed to even live. 

The thought of giving her a child, only to have it die because of him, was more than enough to dispel any doubts. He simply couldn't risk that. And his certainty that he was doing the right thing would have to sustain him, even if his world ended. After all... it had ended before.

She walked into the room and he almost cried out. He wanted to leap to his feet, to throw his arms around her and beg her to stay. He forced himself to stay still and wait. This was it. He needed to let her say her piece. He smiled shakily at her and looked down at his hands, waiting.

Wanda settled beside him on the sofa, slipping her arm around his back. She rested her head on his shoulder. He hoped that was a good sign.

"I love you, Norman. I want to be your wife."

Norman nodded, now beyond speech.

"I can accept not having our own kids," she murmured. "Alright? I was hoping to have a baby with you but I can cope with not getting to. Because... if I don't marry you, then I don't marry anyone. I mean... I don't want to marry a man I don't love just to have children. I want to marry the man I do love."

"Are you sure?" he asked hoarsely, looking at her at last. "Think of what you're giving up..."

"I have. Don't forget, we aren't really childless. We raised Peter together, and we're helping raise Lily. And there will be more kids in Walter Manor someday, right? So marry me, Norman. You're very sweet to be so concerned about my happiness, but marrying you is what will make me happy. Kids of our own would have been nice, but I don't want them enough to live my life without you."

She leaned in and kissed him, but had to cut it short when Norman burst into tears.

 

Things settled down once more. Marie, to their relief, was delighted with the news... as far as she let Norman see. Wanda reported later that Marie had been hesitant about it and he didn't blame her. But he wasn't letting anything interfere now.

He did have a fright the next week, however, when Wanda ran to him in the garden, sobbing. He held her without knowing what was wrong, only to find out, to his relief, that The Spine had called home! They hurried inside together to share in the family's joy.

Peter took Marie and the kids out to dinner that night to celebrate. Wanda and Norman ate their dinner alone in the dining room by candlelight.

"Isn't it wonderful?" Wanda laughed, not for the first time.

"It is, my love. Now we can set the date."

She laughed. "I meant that they would be coming home, darling!"

"I know. But I can't stop thinking about it. Would one year be too long?"

"Maybe. Six months at least."

"Then you don't mind..." Norman murmured, blushing.

"What, darling?"

"Waiting to share my bed..." he faltered.

"Why, Norman..." she murmured, looking down at her plate with an embarrassed grin. "I've waited this long. And... and we'd _have_ to wait. One of us needs to figure out how to prevent... you know."

"True. I had planned to have a procedure done. I've asked my doctor about it already."

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I mean... about you having the surgery instead of me?"

"Quite sure. If for some reason you changed your mind..."

"Now, Norman," she scolded. "I thought I'd made you understand."

He smiled sheepishly. "It's also easier for me than for you. It's less invasive, takes a shorter period of time, and doesn't require full anaesthesia."

"Oh. Well, then I appreciate you being willing. I would prefer not to go through that."

Norman nodded. "I'll schedule it, then. And then we can plan the wedding. Do you still want a ceremony, with guests?"

She giggled. "Carefully selected. But yes. I'm not hiding this from the world. People need to understand that I'm proud to be your wife."

Norman felt the blush deepen. "Not as proud as I am to have you," he murmured.

She grew as pink as he felt. "So..." she breathed, "um... Yes, no need to worry about sharing a bed just yet. Although once the surgery is done, well... we could, you know."

He gulped. "But your uncles would..."

"My uncles?" she gasped incredulously. "I'm a grown woman, Norman!"

He pinked and murmured, "I know. But... I feel we're on thin ice as it is. The robots have been through a great deal and you're their niece. I think it would be a poor start if I just had my way with you while they're away."

"Oh, I don't know. I think that would be a great start," she said with a wink. "And I'd be having my way with _you_ , according to your assessment. Especially if you're not as interested in it as I am."

"Oh... I promise you, my love..." he whispered, looking into her eyes, "the feeling would be mutual. But there are proprieties... children in the house..."

"Not right now, they're not..." Wanda breathed.

_Oh, dear_... Norman gulped.

"But we don't have any... you know..."

"Actually... I have a few tucked away just in case..."

"Do you really?" he whispered.

"Mm-hm..."

They locked gazes...

...and the front door opened.

"We're home!" Lily crowed in the distance.

Wanda let out a breath she'd apparently been holding. Norman chuckled.

"As I said," he murmured, as the rest of the family noisily entered the house. "Our marriage will be a delicate enough matter without word getting around that we're having an affair first. I want to do right by you, my love. And the children are watching, in their way. Let's hold off until it's official."

"Alright," she sighed. "I can wait if you can."

Norman nodded, shaking a little. Wanda rose to go and greet the family and he sank a little in his seat.

Why had he brought _that_ up?

It was true, of course, that he positively ached to be with her sometimes, especially when she pointed out that they were entirely alone in the house, but... he knew almost nothing about it!

And he was already so happy. From where they had begun, to being the man she loved... what a metamorphosis! It would be foolish to tempt fate by wanting more.

His inner critic tried to tell him she didn't really want him that way... that she loved him but would be repulsed by his body. But his inner critic had grown steadily weaker since he had begun to face it down. Finding out she loved him had done still more to make his insecurity lose its sting.

And she already knew what he was like. She'd seen him shirtless, seen the extent of the deformation. Yet she still embraced him eagerly and warmly. There was only so much his self-doubt could argue.

No, the real problem was that she _did_ want him that way. And sooner or later they would be genuinely alone for long enough, with nothing to stop them and then...

The mental image sprang into his mind before he could stop it. His neck was on fire. He grabbed a piece of ice from his water glass and applied it to his skin, hastily thinking of different varieties of roses. _Hybrid Perpetual, Moss, Damask, Boursault, Gallica, Tea..._

Norman's neck cooled gradually. Wanda walked in and began to gather the dishes, chattering about what would happen next with her uncles. He smiled benignly as she did, not offering much in response. She didn't seem to notice, in her excitement over it.

Well, sooner or later, he'd have to face it. Just... not yet. Sighing, he stood and followed her out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *For the record, I do not think it's irresponsible to have kids knowing you're a genetic carrier of some disease. I'm sure there are some nasty ones that might make me rethink that, but as a rule I don't think it's right to judge someone for having kids when they know they might have a genetic mutation or disorder. Even people with no known family history of health problems sometimes have a kid with health problems and the like. How they respond and treat that kid is your real test of character.
> 
> But Norman is one of those who is morbidly terrified of passing traits down. And I can understand that viewpoint, too. It's a judgment call.
> 
> ** "Frigid" in this context was a term used by another generation of men scapegoating women for things instead of considering the possibility that not everyone likes sex, or that maybe a guy should learn how to do it properly instead of getting what he wants and going to sleep. This particular issue was a big ol' talking point around that time and onward as women started talking to other women and calling BS on the men who labeled them for not enjoying being expected to put out and "do their wifely duty." Poor Wanda is suffering under the notion that sex isn't fun for women. Considering how many women still don't know what they're missing (and that many men don't have a clue either), it's no surprise she wouldn't know.


	10. Bride and Groom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Norman and Wanda get married 1969... but they're still so danged 50s!

The robots returned home and their choice to wait turned out to have been inspired. It was nowhere near as simple as just coming home and getting used to being there again. Not remotely.

Rabbit was the hardest. His entire chassis had been stolen and Peter, Wanda, and The Spine worked to get a new one made. But Peter's gifts lay in other areas of robotics, Wanda really only knew maintenance, and The Spine had never had to make parts from scratch before. His hands were unable to manage the more delicate work needed.

But it was a challenge, for multiple reasons. Rabbit was, if anything, even more nervous about scientists than ever, even though one of them had given him life. He preferred The Spine but scarcely endured Peter and Wanda. And then he would break down... emotionally... with guilt for treating them the way he did, and would spend the rest of the day with his daughter.

The robots still wouldn't speak much about what had happened in Vietnam to cause Rabbit's paranoia, but she knew they had all been hurt a great deal. She sometimes cried in Norman's arms at the thought. They always suffered when they went away to war, but now... Jon was impaired by an inexplicable dose of LSD and Rabbit was a bundle of nerves, figuratively speaking. Even The Spine, trying so hard to be okay as he always did, sometimes slipped and got a haunted look in his eyes that made her heart ache.

But the work progressed and Rabbit was at last fitted with a functional chassis, albeit one that lacked the sculpted, almost human shape that even he usually had. Rabbit made no complaint. He made a great show of not wanting to be human, so complaining that he looked less like one would hardly make sense.

Now, finally, they were able to start preparations for their wedding. The announcements were the most stressful part. A great many RSVPs came back in the negative, some with angry letters, others with concerned notes. They even received some very unwelcome phone calls and visits from reporters. She had expected people to react to Norman's physical condition, considering how petty people could be about appearances. But it was clear that everyone and their dog was offended at the idea that Wanda would marry a Becile, or that she would marry the man who "murdered her husband."

Wanda wanted to set them all straight. After all, she'd put that sort of hateful thinking behind her, and whose business was it, anyway, if not hers? But she began to feel that it was cruel to Norman to do it this way. He must feel very hurt, she concluded.

She asked him about it a few weeks before the wedding as they sat curled together in the library.

"Norman... do you want to have a smaller ceremony? This bigger one seems to be setting people off."

"The real question is, do _you?"_ he asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face and smiling down at her.

"That's not the question at all. I'm the one who got the idea in the first place. I want to know whether you want a smaller ceremony, so stop trying to be a gentleman and tell me that."

Norman leaned away a little and Wanda slumped.

"I'm sorry..." she mumbled.

"No, it's quite alright. This is a stressful time for us both."

"But you're not flying off the handle!" she gulped, blinking away tears.

"Because I hide everything away. And because I'm very happy to marry you in any ceremony you name. Do you really think we should do things to please others at our own wedding? And for that matter, would anyone would be appeased if we made it smaller?"

"Well... I had thought we'd already pared it down from the usual ceremony. I'd expected people to want to see us happy, so I was trying to assemble a small but tasteful party."

"Then damn them and let's have it the way you want it, my love. You're right... if they care more about making a point than about our happiness, then they won't be happy at any sort of ceremony. Let them stay away. Besides, if it's too small, we can't have dancing."

Wanda smiled. She'd been looking forward to that, too.

"Alright, sweetheart. Oh, by the way, Rabbit says he's able to walk me down the aisle," she added.

"What?"

"Rabbit's going to walk me down the aisle."

"But... that means he's willing to give you away..."

"Well, yes."

"I thought... I suppose I thought he might try to talk you out of it."

Wanda smiled. "No. He said he saw it coming years ago. Funny thing about Rabbit... he seems completely self-absorbed but he can be very sensitive to what other people are feeling." She giggled. "Or he likes to _pretend_ he knows everything, and just _said_ he saw it coming."

"Ah. Well, also I thought you were going to ask The Spine to do it."

"I did. It was his idea. He said Rabbit was the oldest, and that he might be more willing to wear his replacement chassis if he had an important part in the wedding."

"Oh, I see! Well, that's a worthy cause. But then The Spine won't have a role to play in it."

"Maybe you can ask him to be your best man?"

"But I was thinking of asking Peter..."

"Oh... I'm sorry... I sort of hinted that you might ask Spine to do it..."

"Oh, dear."

"I can go tell him..."

"No, I'll attend to it. But first I think I should discuss it with Peter," he murmured, kissing her brow before wriggling reluctantly from her embrace and heading off.

 

"Peter?" Norman said, peering into the lab.

Peter looked up from his homework as Norman walked in. "Norman! Come to help me with my calculus?"

Norman chuckled. "If you need it."

"A little..."

Norman perused the papers and pointed out a few miscalculations. As Peter looked over the problems in question, Norman spoke.

"The real reason I'm here, though, is that I was hoping to discuss something with you."

"Hm?" Peter grunted.

"Well, considering you're Wanda's only living relative, you should have an important role in the wedding. But Rabbit is going to walk her down the aisle, so I was wondering whether you would like to be my best man."

Peter looked up. "Rabbit's walking her down the aisle? What about Spine?"

"Oh... he thought Rabbit should do it and Rabbit accepted."

"Wow... I didn't expect that. Well, shouldn't Spine be best man?"

"Spine?" Norman asked, as though surprised. "Why?"

"Well... the robots are Aunt Wanda's oldest family and Jon's in the party. I think you need someone up there who can tackle him in case the Valium doesn't take. And... well... doesn't the best man have to give advice and stuff? Or something? I'm not exactly mature enough to give... y'know... _advice..."_

There was something far too pointed about the way Peter said it, and Norman grew uneasy. The Spine, having been married for over fifteen years, would certainly have some _advice_ of a very intimate nature. Norman had even considered asking him some personal questions before the honeymoon, because of that experience. But the idea that young Peter, though grown, should also be thinking of Norman's woeful _lack_ of experience, set his nerves on edge far worse than anything Wanda had mentioned.

"Boy..." Norman said with strained patience. "I am trying to confer an honor. You're supposed to thank me and accept. Why must you try and manage things?"

"Guess this head of household gig is going to my head," he chuckled sheepishly. "And... I was hoping to bring a date. I don't want her sitting alone with strangers."

"Are you sure? She might find me frightening."

"No, I told her about you. Still haven't asked her out, though..."

Norman thought asking a girl to a wedding for a first date was coming on just a little too strong, though this certainly supported Peter's assertion that he lacked maturity. But Norman was hardly a dating expert and Peter, in his opinion, didn't spend enough time with kids his age, so he chose not to voice his opinion.

"Well, alright. I'll ask The Spine."

 

And The Spine was the best man, though Norman couldn't bring himself to ask any personal questions. He knew the basics, and could manage that much, but without frame of reference, he couldn't quite decide what the question was.

But prepared or not, one by one, the details of the wedding came together. The meal was planned and cooks and wait staff hired, the music easily prepared considering the number of musicians in the manor and friends of theirs willing to assist. 

The day came and Norman was more nervous than he'd been in years. He was worried about the wedding night, but half of his misgivings were over asking a lovely, perfectly normal looking woman to marry a monster such as himself. As much as they loved each other and as close as they had become as friends, when his nerves won out, all he saw was the flaws.

And he was one big walking flaw. He'd been involved in the death of her first husband as well as her father and uncle, and by some accounts her mother. He was a mutation. He'd been living in the house for years and people had begun to talk. Well, they'd always talked but the topic changed somewhat after their engagement was announced.

He couldn't take her out to dinner or out dancing. He couldn't even father her children because of the risks. He'd already had the doctor around to perform the necessary surgical procedure. And given Norman's utter lack of experience at romance, why would she even want to go to bed with him without the promise of motherhood?

There was no reason in the world why this lovely woman should marry Norman Becile. None. But Wanda seemed all smiles. Right up to the ceremony and through the reception, Wanda was every inch the happy bride. He simply couldn't let her down now by backing out, not if she was this happy! So he gritted his teeth and did his best, hoping at least that the reception would go well.

Weren't weddings supposed to be more fun?

 

Wanda managed to get through the wedding day. She was a bundle of nerves, but she had a mission: keep Norman from backing out.

Oh, of course she knew he loved her, and he'd done the asking, after all. She knew he'd be happier married than going on as they had. And she knew full well he wanted to make love to her. He never said it; too shy or too humble to discuss that sort of thing. But there was a certain feeling when a man wanted to make love... outside of the obvious, of course. Guy had always made himself clear even before she noticed any physical indications, and once he was taken care of he was a lot quieter.

And she knew her stuff so she wasn't worried about the honeymoon. But she could see the anxiety in every inch of him, knew he was caught in his cycling fears again. It was a surprise he hadn't had a nightmare, really.

The key was, be as happy as humanly possible. And she was, of course, glad to marry him. They were practically married as it was; it certainly wasn't going to change their living situation much. But it would stop all the gossips who kept saying they were at it already.

And Norman needed to see how happy she was. If he could get through this day, he would be, too. She didn't want him wasting it worrying. He'd feel he'd missed his own wedding. Though again, there was still the wedding night. She saw it as her secret weapon.

Marie and Lily helped her dress. Lily was clearly having a marvelous time and was gently scolded by her mother more than once for being so silly.

Wanda liked it. Poor, sweet Lily, like Norman, didn't get out much. She hoped this event would help her feel like she was a part of the world, too.

At last, Wanda stood with Rabbit, ready to walk into the makeshift chapel. Rabbit patted her hand on his arm and she felt a little tremor in his frame.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, ju-ju-just a little rattled, baby. From tha chassis I mean. But... you sure about this, kid?"

"I really am. I love him."

"We-well that's all there is to it, then, huh?" Rabbit said with a weak chuckle.

The music still hadn't started. She looked askance at Rabbit.

"He's not a bad person. And it's been a long time. Don't you think you can forgive him, Unkie Rabbit?"

"'Unkie Rabbit.' Yehr layin' on tha s-sauce pretty thick there, k-kid."

"It's our wedding day, though..."

"I know. I guess... when I forgive myself, then I can forgive him."

"Really? Do you think you'll ever forgive yourself?" she asked.

Rabbit smiled mirthlessly down at the floor. "Nope," he sighed.

"Oh, honestly..." Wanda groaned.

"B-but I'm happy for ya, kid. Okay? I understand. I know he's a good guy, I seen how he's treated you an' everyone else. I know all that. An' I st-still can't forgive him. Because he's a good guy and we can play games an' joke around even, and then I re-remember what happened that night and I'm ma-mad as Hell all over again. You get me? I'm tryin' but it don't just disappear. So have yehr wedding and party and be happy, kid. An' I'll let ya know if I ever find out I can think about it without gettin' mad. 'Cause then I'll know it's finally over."

Wanda gulped. What a time to be discussing this! But she'd brought it up.

"Alright, Uncle Rabbit. Thank you for accepting this."

"Yehr welcome, kid. I wouldn't expect ya to skip it even if I didn't, okay? Yehr a big girl and ya know what ya want. Ya don't need my permission."

"I know."

She kissed him on the face plate and he smiled.

"Glad Petes managed ta wire the sensors so I could feel that," he chuckled.

The music started as he spoke. The doors opened, pulled by Dave one one side, and on the other by Peter, whose date, as Norman had told Wanda, had not panned out. Rabbit patted her hand and walked her up the aisle.

She watched Norman as she strolled closer. She'd never seen him sweat so much! Wanda swallowed a nervous giggle. Rabbit handed her off to Norman with a small nod and a serious look. She saw Norman gulp, clearly seeing more of a threat than a gesture of grudging respect in the action. But Wanda was pleased. Rabbit had essentially admitted a certain trust in Norman just with a look and a nod.

"You're stunning, my dear," Norman said softly as she took his hand.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

There was a pause as they turned to the officiant. She fully expected him to insist that he was, even if he wasn't. To her delight, he surprised her.

"No," he whispered at last, out of the corner of his mouth.

Wanda grinned helplessly.

 

He managed to relax at the reception, at least, or so it appeared. Dancing got the blood flowing, he explained, and it calmed his nerves somewhat.

But soon it was time to head into the mountains for their planned honeymoon... a camping trip out where there were almost no people. She'd reserved the most remote camp site she could find that still had water and other things for a camper. They could spend most of the time inside if they really wanted. But neither wanted to just stay home.

Wanda had purchased a used camper in good repair in hopes that they could take regular trips and give Norman some time out of the house. He was mostly content but she knew he wanted to go out sometimes.

It was a long drive into the mountains of San Bernardino, but it gave them time to talk, to think things over, and to enjoy the scenery. As they were nearing the entrance to the forest, however, Norman broached an awkward topic.

"Wanda... May I be blunt?"

"Of course, silly."

"I'm worried about tonight. You know what I mean."

"Oh..."

"You know I have no experience... I mentioned that I wasn't very popular."

"Well," she said, eyes firmly fixed on the road. "I never did think that sort of popularity was anything to be proud of."

"To be sure. But it means I may not be very good."

She giggled nervously. "Well, I'm a little rusty myself. But I think we can manage."

"I just... want it to be wonderful. I've looked forward to it for a long time."

"Me, too. Well..."

"Well?"

"You mustn't have any high expectations, alright? I mean, a first time isn't likely to be... magical."

"Well, of course there's a learning curve..."

She laughed outright this time. Norman's clawed fingers clicked. Was that anger or nerves?

"Exactly," she said. "So even if I... well... even if I don't get as worked up as you might hope, please understand that I am still thrilled just to be with you. Alright?"

There was a long pause.

"Alright," he murmured at last. 

Wanda pulled into the campsite, chewing her lip. She should have known Norman would be worried. They'd discussed sex in a general sort of way and of course he'd brought up the subject of children before having the vasectomy. But now it was time to actually do the thing.

They busied themselves first with hooking up the camper to the various hoses and went inside for the night. Conversation was quiet over a light meal and at first Wanda didn't even make eye contact.

But she caught herself avoiding it, and felt terrible. Suppose he thought she was turned off by his body? She needed to show she was happy to be with him. It wasn't Norman that was the problem. It was that sex just wasn't the thrill everyone made it out to be. She was interested, of course... poor Norman had experienced precious few happy moments in his life, and men did enjoy sex. So she was all for providing him with that.

She looked up at last. He looked up from his meal at her and smiled, and she felt a shiver.

"I love you, Wanda," he murmured. 

"Oh! I love you, too."

He beamed and lay down his fork. "I think I've had enough."

Oh...

"Me, too... I'll just clear away the..."

"No... I mean... it'll keep."

He rose and extended his hand. It was trembling. Wanda looked into his eyes and put her hand in his. The chills intensified.

Well... possibly she might find it a little exciting...

 

They woke the next morning to the sound of birdsong. Dawn was hitting the windows of the camper. 

Norman blinked his large, awkward eyes in the brightness. He looked over at her as she stretched a little. She noticed and blushed a bright pink.

"Good morning," she breathed.

He felt a delightful shiver. "Wanda, I have to ask... how did I do? Did you like it?"

She giggled softly. "It was lovely," she murmured.

Was that good? She snuggled into his arms and he decided it was. It certainly had been for him! He hadn't known what he was missing and his regrets weren't troubling him at all anymore.

Once Wanda went out and assured that their campsite was out of view of any others, Norman joined her and they spent an enjoyable day making campfires and admiring nature. It was a pleasure after so long to just be outside, looking at the view, tossing little twigs and leaves into the fire.

"This was a good idea," he murmured as they admired the stars that evening.

"Told you," she breathed.

He stroked her cheek and she turned to him. They kissed and Norman felt everything was absolutely perfect, especially when she led the way into the camper for the night.

And so went the honeymoon... daytime relaxing and watching wildlife, seeing shapes in the clouds, reading in the sunshine, watching the sun set... nights counting stars, making love and listening to crickets as they dozed.

By the time it was over, Norman was fully content with their choice to marry. But he was no longer fully convinced things were perfect. He'd noticed one thing that just wasn't quite right, and he couldn't ignore it much longer.

He needed help... and to get it, he would have to talk to an expert.

 

When they got back to the manor, once the camper was cleared of their things, Wanda went to their new rooms to shower and take a nap. Norman kissed her and turned to his own business: looking for The Spine in order to have a very awkward talk.

But The Spine wasn't home and Marie, when he found her, clearly hadn't slept well in days. He soon found out why... The Jon was missing!

Wanda got her shower but the nap had to wait. They ended up in the library with the family, hearing what had happened after the reception. The Spine was back from what had been his sixth day out searching, and restlessly paced at one side of the room while the others looked at him worriedly.

"How could we have just run off to have a happy little vacation while Jon was missing?" Wanda wailed.

"Oh, hon, you couldn't have known!" Marie assured her. "And there was no way to tell you. And I'm glad. All you would have done here was worry."

"But..."

"She's right."

The Spine had stopped pacing.

"We've done more than enough worrying, Wanda. Don't regret your trip. We wanted you to have it."

"You say that but if it had been you that was away while the family was having a crisis, well... just think about that trip you took after you got back!"

"Peter had that under control. Besides, didn't you tell me you thought Peter shouldn't have called me at all?"

Wanda sighed. Norman squeezed her hand but said nothing. There was nothing to say. She knew full well that they hadn't so much as had a pay phone nearby. But that was cold comfort with The Jon missing.

Life went on as much as it could. The Spine and Peter did their best to follow any leads, as reports began to surface about a golden hippie traveling around the country. Norman couldn't help, but Wanda tried, many evenings returning to their rooms to cry on her husband's shoulder. He felt a little helpless in his inability to search, but made himself useful in other ways... sometimes helping to analyze information, other times just making their rooms more welcoming for when Wanda dragged in to collapse and sleep.

His old worry about their bedroom situation hadn't gone away, but he could hardly judge her enjoyment levels when she was too exhausted most of the time to even try. When they did make love, however, it was much the same. She seemed happy in his arms, but the rest struck him as having something of a "function over form" quality... not the way he had imagined things would be between two people in love. A pattern emerged, neatly suited to get the job done. It was not particularly romantic and he found himself more inclined to hold her and just go to sleep than to persuade her to do anything more intimate. She seemed just as happy that way.

Until the day he walked into their room and found her crying. She did that, with Jon missing, more often than before. But the guilty glance she gave him suggested it was a tad different this time.

"Wanda?" he said apprehensively. "What is it?"

"Norman..." she choked. "I don't know how to ask..."

"About what? Please, you know you can always be completely open with me, my love!"

"I just realized... it's been weeks since... well, you know."

"Oh."

"Why have you stopped...?"

He sank onto the sofa beside her. "You mean... why have _we_ stopped?"

"That's what I said!"

"No, you... alright. Well..."

She mopped her eyes with a tissue. "Don't you find me attractive anymore?"

He almost laughed. "Wanda, sweet girl... how funny that _you_ should be the one to ask that, considering! Of course I do!"

She snuggled into his arms and whimpered, "Then... am I just terrible in bed?"

"Wanda..." he sighed. "My love... it's just that... with everything going on lately, I didn't think you _wanted_ to do it. You're under such a lot of strain right now, and you don't, well..."

"I don't what?"

"You, um... don't seem to enjoy it very much."

Wanda began to sob. He'd said something wrong. Probably a lot of things. He retraced his words, trying to decide which thing had done it.

"You think I'm... I'm frigid!" she howled into her tissue. "Just like Guy!"

Just like Guy? "What? No! You're warm and wonderful and..."

"No, I'm not! I'm cold and frigid and awful!" she wailed.

Wanda jumped up from the sofa, ran into the bedroom, and locked the door.

Well, hell. The strain certainly was showing!

He stared at the bedroom door, debating his next course of action. It was true; she really didn't seem to enjoy it a great deal... but at the same time, she seemed fairly content with the status quo. Norman had decided to put off asking The Spine for advice, considering his worry about The Jon. Wanda had been thoroughly preoccupied with trying to track him down, too. So it had been easy to just back down and leave things as they were.

But he couldn't put it off any longer. He rose to go and get some advice.

The Spine was home, fortunately. It was early yet and he was sitting a working a puzzle with Lily and Dave... holding back a great deal, since he was entirely capable of working the entire thing within the space of a few minutes. Clearly the goal was to spend time with the children more than anything. Norman hesitated... he couldn't interrupt him now! But... Wanda was hurting...

"Spine?" he murmured. "Could I speak to you privately?"

"Of course, Norman." The Spine turned to his children. "Save me the last one."

"Uh-huh," Lily murmured, examining an oddly shaped piece.

But as they walked out, Norman saw Lily and Dave glance at each other and grin. He winced. It would have been nice to find a more subtle way to get The Spine to leave the room, but Norman wasn't particularly good at trickery. Of course those two little characters were assuming things.

He studiously ignored the quiet giggles as they left the room.

"What's the problem?" The Spine asked as they stood in the cemetery, staring determinedly at the stones and not each other. "Why did you bring me all the way out here in this heat? You shouldn't be in the sun too long..."

"It's setting soon. Spine... this is very awkward..."

"Ah." He didn't sound surprised.

"Wanda and I... well, things have been going well, but... in certain areas, things have been going... _less_ well..."

He expected laughter. Even The Spine had his limits. But he just nodded.

"I assume you're referring to the bedroom," he replied calmly. "At least, I hope so... otherwise I'm at a loss."

"Yes," Norman sighed.

"To be brutally honest, I had expected you to have questions sooner. But I didn't think a man of your age would appreciate the implication that he didn't know what he was doing so I didn't offer."

"Oh. Well... to be honest, I wouldn't have known what to ask until we'd actually been together. And then I didn't want to bother you."

"I appreciate that. But I don't want you to think I'd be bothered if you need help, Norman. So... what's got you worried?"

"She... she doesn't seem very, well... she doesn't seem to enjoy it much. Is that normal?"

"Hm. She, uh... _said_ she doesn't?"

"No... but she just sort of... makes sure I, well... _you know_... and once that's done she puts on her nightgown and then goes to sleep."

"Ah."

"I'd expected something a bit more... I don't know. Passionate. Maybe I've seen too many French films."

"Well, we all hope to have a love life like a French film. Who wouldn't? But the reality is usually a little more down to Earth."

"Ah. So then this is normal?"

"Normal. Well, by definition it's normal for you two. But that doesn't mean you have to leave it that way."

"Oh. Then it's something I'm doing wrong..."

The Spine chuckled, not unkindly. "Oh, Norman... you've only been married a few months. Give yourself some time to improve."

"Improve how? For some reason she blames herself! She said she's frigid!"

"Ugh. I heard that one years ago and from what I can tell it's just an excuse men use when they don't know how to satisfy their wives."

"But can you learn that?" Norman said, relieved.

"Oh, yes. I started with a few dirty stories I heard at war and learned the rest through trial and error. Even the errors were fun, though..." he added grinning. He glanced at Norman and steamed with embarrassment, his smile fading. "Yes, so... um, you haven't noticed any, well... any sign that she's getting the same things out of it that you are? Y'know... the big finish, for example?"

"No, that's the problem... I was expecting her to and then she went to sleep. But... she can? I mean, that's possible?" Norman cried.

"Norman," he said awkwardly. "I can promise you, it's one hundred percent possible, or I wouldn't even _have_ a sex life. Or a daughter."

Norman gulped. "I hate to ask, Spine, but... I need some specifics on how to make that happen."

The Spine looked around hastily, leaned in, and murmured, "I know you have a good memory, which is good, because I'm not saying any of this twice, and if you write any of it down I may just forget my vow of peace. Understood?"

Norman nodded.

"Good. Then I'll tell you what I've learned, and the rest is up to you. Of course."

"Thank you!" Norman cried.

"Shush!" He looked around again.

"Right," Norman whispered.

An awkward hour later, he was hurrying back through the dusk to their rooms, while trying to look like he wasn't hurrying at all.

 

 

_Knock knock knock._

Wanda jerked awake. It was dark. Was someone knocking? Where was she?

Oh, right.  She'd run into the bedroom earlier and cried herself to sleep... because he knew. _He_   _knew!_ She thought he wouldn't notice, but he had. And now... ugh! Maybe they should have just stayed friends! She'd been a warm friend, but she was a cold wife.

And she didn't want to be! She felt such longing for him sometimes, but then they made love and it felt like... well... like something was off. She couldn't put her finger on what because it had always been this way for her.

Wanda fought tears once more. She pressed her face into Norman's pillow and inhaled the scent of her husband. It was both comforting and painful.

_Knock knock knock._

"Wanda?"

It was _him!_ She rose and made her wobbly way to the door. She hesitated... just for a moment. But it was his room, too. And it wasn't his fault she was this way.

She unlocked the door and almost ran to the dresser to get out her nightgown... and avoid looking at him as he walked into the room. She was still aching, but she was also so ashamed about her hysterics. It had just hit her all at once that afternoon how long it had been since they had made love. And she had liked making love. It was cuddly and he was so passionate. She enjoyed seeing him that way, even if she couldn't seem to join him in it.

She felt a lump in her throat as she shrugged off her blouse and reached for the nightgown. The door closed behind her. She heard the lock click softly.

"Feeling any better?" he asked gently.

She swallowed hard. "I'm sorry... I don't know what came over me..."

He walked up behind and put his arms around her, and her throat ached as she settled back against him. But she didn't want to start crying again!

"It's alright," he murmured. "It's not your fault."

"I know... but it isn't yours, either! It's just... how I am."

"Maybe."

What?

"Or maybe... maybe we just have been going about it all wrong."

"There aren't a lot of options," she said dryly. "Things go where they go."

"Actually," he breathed, close to her ear, "There's no need to be in such a hurry to get to that part."

She shivered a little as he brushed her hair aside. She felt his lips press against her neck and she gasped.

"Norman..." she breathed. "You've never..."

"But I should have." He kissed her neck again. "I'm sorry I haven't made love to you recently." Kiss. "I'd like to remedy that tonight." Kiss. "But... I'd like to try some new things, and I need you to relax and trust me."

"What do you mean?" she whispered he lightly stroked his fingers along her stomach. Chills shot across her skin. "Oh!" she gasped. "Um... that's... that's really nice..."

He chuckled softly. "I mean that we've been limiting ourselves, my love," he replied, his breath warm against her skin. "I know you, Wanda. You're _not_ frigid. Don't ever think that you are. You're the warmest woman I've ever known, and I love you dearly. But you do need to learn to let go and trust other people. Trust _me."_

"I _do_ trust you!" she gasped, trying to sound indignant. But it was next to impossible when he was stroking his fingers down her throat and along her breast bone...

"I know. But are you willing to put yourself into my hands?"

She technically had... and he was currently being very free with them. She shivered again. He seemed to have set her whole body on fire. Where the hell had he learned all this?

Wanda turned in his arms and kissed him. She felt him fumble with the hooks on her bra and hastily assisted, rather than wait until he tried to use his left hand. She'd lost a bra to those claws on the honeymoon. He stroked her bare back with his fingertips as they kissed again, and the shivers increased. It was almost unbearable... she'd never experienced anything like it and she wanted more.

"What do you say?" he whispered at last, tugging gently at the straps of the now unfastened bra.

"Alright..." she gasped, feeling lightheaded.

Norman smiled.

 

Wanda's first thought when she woke the next morning was that she wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing. She'd always had the presence of mind to put on her nightgown before!

Ah, but... that had been different. This time she'd been so relaxed that she had just closed her eyes for a moment... and didn't open them again until morning.

She stared up at the ceiling and tried to grasp what had happened. A lot of things suddenly made sense. Except one. She looked at Norman, curled contentedly on his side, and wondered once more... where the hell had he learned it?

And did she care, as long as he did it again?

There was a knock at their outer door. "Aunt Wanda?"

She sat up abruptly, clutching the sheet over her bust almost guiltily, and looked at the time.

Oops! She was usually up by now getting breakfast for everyone! She looked at Norman and saw he was awake.

"I... I slept in!" she gasped. He grinned and she shook her head. "And you're proud of that, I suppose?" she demanded.

"Sort of..."

"Oh!" she scoffed, hastily rising and scrambling to find where he'd tossed her bra and panties.

"Can't they get their own breakfast?" he asked.

"I... guess... but they're knocking and if I don't answer, they'll think..."

"Think what? We're married. They can think what they want."

"I... know..."

He chuckled. " Alright. But don't you dare be embarrassed."

"I'm not..."

"Good."

Wanda found her bra laying by the dresser, where he had removed it. She shivered just remembering. The panties were by the bed...

She could tell he was watching her. It was a curious feeling, like she was some kind of sexy movie starlet. But he'd done all the work... if you could call it work! And she wondered... should she be doing more, too? She kind of wanted to try... She had never realized the effect gentle caresses could have when they were done by the right person... in the right places. He hadn't stopped until... well... until Wanda realized, very abruptly, what all the fuss was about.

And still she wondered... How did he know all this all of a sudden? Had he bought a dirty book or something? Maybe a sleazy romance novel?

Wanda, now in nightgown and bathrobe, looked at last at Norman and saw him smiling at her. There was that feeling again... like there was a fire burning across her skin. She blushed and smiled back, hurrying to him for a quick kiss.

"Don't get up," she whispered. "I'll be back as quick as I can."

She turned from his surprised smile, stepped into her shoes and bolted for the door.

 

Norman tugged up the blankets and lay, grinning at no one, and silently thanking The Spine, with his long experience, for being so frank with his advice. He was even happier a little while later, when Wanda returned with breakfast and the news that The Jon had been seen in a news report and that The Spine and Peter were heading to New York to see if they could catch him this time. It was the best lead they'd had in months, and they were very optimistic. What was more, there was nothing Wanda personally could do about it... so there was no reason, she said, that she shouldn't just snuggle right back into bed with Norman.

It was a very quick meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All that's left is to provide a happily ever after epilogue. Or some kind of ever after. Happy enough anyhow.


End file.
